


The Raven and the Dove

by moroiulmeu



Series: Amadeus: Lost Scenes Series [5]
Category: Amadeus (1984)
Genre: A fair amount of fluff, M/M, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-24 05:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20700494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moroiulmeu/pseuds/moroiulmeu
Summary: A year after the extended alternative ending, which probably needs a better title at this point, Wolfgang and Antonio are quite happy with the way life is going, that is until Mozart finds himself alone on a snowy street and looking at something that could change their lives forever.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a year since Mozart had watched Salieri walk downstage to sing for him the first time, a little over since their mutual quiet declaration of love. Mozart had, for the most part, recovered his health, and now lounged awkwardly across the end of Salieri's bed, looking at a composition upside down.  
A grin split his face as Salieri laid down on the floor to look up at him curiously.  
"Does that make it easier to read or something?" He asked finally.  
"If you want my secrets you'll have to kiss me," Mozart replied.  
"Hmm, you drive a hard bargain."  
Mozart gasped as Salieri half sat up and kissed him, his fingers slipping through his hair.  
"I have no secrets," Mozart mumbled after he let go, "It was a dirty lie."  
"Bastard."  
"This measure here... I can't make up mind," Mozart said, offering Salieri the sheet music, "Measure sixty, I can't decide if I want it to swell, crescendoing heroically out of the final scene, and then die off into nothing or just... Die off."  
Salieri eyed the measure in question, studying the constructions around it and sighed, noting the messier than normal handwriting. While it remained uncorrected as usual the writing itself was shaky. Mozart had developed a hand tremor to rival Salieri's own that had not gone away since that cold December night. While his health was now fair and the doctors assured them it was fine, merely nerve damage, he fell victim to the occassional spasms that would run through his tiny frame, giving Salieri a minor heart attack every time.  
"Is there anything behind this?" Salieri asked, looking over the rest of the work.  
Mozart nodded, starring at the ceiling.  
"Doves."  
Salieri was perplexed.  
"Doves?"  
"Yes, doves. I was thinking of that day we watched all of them at the park last summer and I thought it could be fun to write the story of a dove through music."  
He tilted his head, suddenly able to see pieces of the music differently, birth, life, flight, death...  
"This is incredible... I would suggest the crescendo," Salieri replied, "May I play this?"  
Mozart nodded.  
"Do what you want."  
Salieri went to the small clavichord in the corner and sat the music down, there was a pause, and then he started to play.  
Mozart smiled, closing his eyes in pure bliss, losing himself in Salieri's playing as he brought his vision to life with affection no other could. As he reached the end Mozart listened closely for his decision and found himself relishing the sound.  
Salieri sat back, studying the piece, before he nodded his approval.  
"Perfection," Mozart said quietly.  
"Always so sure of yourself," Salieri teased.  
"I was talking about you. It doesn't really matter what you play, it could be literally anything, it's always perfect."  
Salieri considered this for a moment, before a sly smile crossed his face and he rose from the bench.  
"Anything?" He purred.  
"Oh hell... I have a big mouth."  
"Attestable."  
Mozart's jaw dropped in surprise.  
"Who are you and what have you done with Antonio Salieri?"  
Salieri placed a finger against Mozart's lips.  
"Hush..."

Mozart pulled his coat tighter around him as he crossed the street, his mind entirely preoccupied as he walked home. He had moved with Constanze to a small, but far better apartment, insulated and warm with proper furnishings. Salieri had refused any different, unwilling to take any more risks with Mozart's health. He was even still reluctant to allow Mozart to go anywhere unattended, but Mozart had convinced him that back and forth was safe enough. The apartment was not far.  
He smiled to himself, the past year had been incredible, he had never been happier, or healthier. He had, at Salieri's heartfelt request, quit drinking, he had started eating properly, sleeping more, and exercising as his body would allow.  
And Salieri...  
Mozart's heart sang at the slightest provocation, he loved him, purely, unconditionally, there was nothing they would not do for each other. For a year now he had felt loved, cared for, safe, and respected. Salieri had not moved from his side during his recovery, he had shown him the utmost patience and concern, attentive to whatever Mozart had needed. It was something Mozart was still getting used to. He was still amazed every time he looked into the onxy colored eyes and saw the warmth and tenderness in them, he was still surprised at how gently Salieri touched him, and what shocked him the most was the trust Salieri so carefully and rawly placed in him. If there was one thing Mozart noticed over his years in Vienna is was that Salieri trusted virtually no one.  
He valued that above all else. So deeply had he fallen in love that Mozart had lost interest in associating with anyone else. Gone was his reputation with the women of Vienna. It was rumored that his illness had caused him to put his life in perspective.  
It certainly had, just not how they thought.  
Mozart grinned.  
It was such a perspective that had caused him to walk straight into a wall the previous day, distracted as he was with watching the way the sunlight fell across Salieri's rich features. Luckily everyone was so used to Mozart's peculiar behavior no one had paid it any mind. No one but Salieri, who had the grace to hide his amusement.  
Things had changed at court too, Salieri protected him with a subtle fierceness that made even Rosenberg quake in his shoes. Mozart had quickly realized that Salieri didn't just hold sway over things, in some cases his word was near law, his opinion valued much higher than that of others. He had found himself nervously asking Salieri for direction in how best to avoid embarrassing him or upsetting this. Salieri had been both surprised and troubled, and refused to give Mozart any answer beyond telling him to be himself. This too had amazed Mozart.  
He stopped at the end of the street, looking down to his new apartment. It looked so peaceful, a reflection of the turn his life had taken. He watched the snow falling from the evening sky and felt his heart warm despite it.  
A movement on the otherwise empty street caught his eye and he turned, catching the edge of a black cloak vanishing into an alley.  
He shrugged it off and headed inside.

The next evening found him back in Salieri's apartments, lounging in a chair and consuming one of the many delectable desserts he had the honor to taste in this house. If there were three things Salieri refused to budge on it was his music, Mozart, and good food.  
Mozart watched him sit at the piano and take down notes for awhile, listening with silent awe and joy, thinking of no better way to spend his evening. He looked at the glow and the firelight, it cast a much different appearance than the sun, shading the dark eyes, the light scars, the soft lips. His eyes fell to his neck in admiration, and then flicked to Salieri's hair, looking at the way strands of the wig had fallen loose and hung infront of his face. He had the strongest urge to get up and play with them, just as he had wanted to all those months ago.  
"You should let your real hair grow," Mozart blurted out, wondering what it would be like.  
Salieri stopped playing, a weird expression on his face, his thoughts derailed.  
"If it would please you," He said finally.  
Mozart grinned, feeling triumphant. He loved running his fingers through the thick black curls and his mind ran with the thought, unbidden, relishing the very idea.  
"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?  
Salieri put his hands down, embarrassed.  
"No. Well, not except you."  
Mozart's face fell, a little stunned and wondering how that could be.  
Salieri waved him off with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.  
"You said it yourself," He explained, "I am a foreigner, Italian."  
Mozart huffed.  
"Well that just makes it better then, doesn't it?"  
The grin that split Salieri's face made his heart flutter with delight.  
"You flatter me, Lupo."  
"Me? I'm just being honest. If there was a contest for the most gorgeous man in Europe they'd all have to call it quits the second you applied. Even your Apollo would have to bow his head, Adone... And you can't even see it, can you?"  
Salieri stood from the piano and for a moment Mozart sat up, worried he had said something wrong as Salieri crossed the distance between them. He took Mozart's dish from him and sat it aside seriously before taking the sides of his face and kissing his lips. Mozart didn't even realize he was holding his breath until that moment.  
"Mio dolce lupo..." Salieri murmured, kissing his jawline, "You say the most awkward things... I love you for them."  
Mozart closed his eyes, enjoying the moment, relieved, letting his hand slip under the wig and toy with the edges of Salieri's real hair.  
Salieri smirked into his neck, his arms slipping around his waist as he enjoyed the sweet scent of Mozart's skin, completely removed as to how he had smelled their first kiss. Clean, fresh, adding to the deceptively pure looking appearance, intoxicating his senses.  
"And here I was worried I'd said something wrong," Mozart said faintly.  
Salieri chuckled, reaching for Mozart's cravat.  
"What makes you think you haven't? Vieni Qui, mio dolce cioccolatino."  
A knock on the door made them both freeze.  
Salieri cursed softly, before kissing Mozart's jaw one last time and rising from his awkward position half on the floor.  
The dissapointment and displeasure in Mozart's face was clear.  
"Whoever that is better be dying a horrible death," Wolfgang muttered.  
Salieri laughed as he went to the door and pulled it open. His servant stood behind it looking apologetic.  
"Signore, Signor Da Ponte is downstairs."  
He sighed.  
"Send him up."  
The man nodded and headed back down as Mozart sat at the piano and began playing. Salieri was surprised to hear his own work, even now. He listened for a moment to the first few bars of Axur, re d'Ormus' sinfonia.  
"That is missing your usual embellishment," Salieri remarked.  
Mozart shrugged.  
"Why mess with perfection?"  
Salieri's heart skipped for a moment before he pulled up a stool and sat next to Mozart.  
"Let me hear them anyway."  
"Antonio, there is literally nothing I can add," Wolfgang insisted as Da Ponte walked in.  
"Please enter," Salieri said dryly, looking up at him.  
"The door was open... Am I interrupting something? Mozart giving you lessons, Salieri?"  
Before Salieri could say anything Mozart gave Da Ponte a rude hand gesture.  
"Oh ho... Anyway, I'm glad you're both here. I'm working on a new piece and I would like one of you to set it."  
Mozart and Salieri exchanged glances.  
"How about we both set it?" Mozart offered.  
Da Ponte looked surprised.  
"You mean the two of you write an opera together, using one of my librettos?"  
Salieri rested his head on his hand.  
"It's not like it's getting off the ground without one of us," he said simply, watching Da Ponte's face turn a funny color, "That's our offer, take it or leave it."  
"But you haven't even heard what it's about," Da Ponte objected as Salieri went to the door and gestured for Da Ponte to leave.  
"Surprise us," Mozart said warmly.  
"Good bye, Da Ponte," Salieri finished, shutting the door on him.  
"You guys are both assholes!" Da Ponte's voice came from behind the door, "I'll bring it next week."  
"I wonder what it's about..." Mozart said as Salieri sat back down.  
"No idea... Where were we?"  
"I was insisting that I didn't have anything to add to-"  
Salieri kissed him and picked him up off the bench.  
"No, back a little further, before that..."  
"When you called me a truffle?"  
Salieri nipped at his ear.  
"Yes, somewhere around then."

Salieri smiled to himself, watching the tiny blond sleep peacefully in his arms, his hair more chaotic than ever, his pale lips slightly open. He petted his hair lightly and stroked his arm. When Mozart didn't stir he kissed his forehead and pulled him closer, running his thumb over his jaw, wondering if Mozart had any idea how badly Salieri hated letting him go.  
Morning came too quickly and Salieri laid there half glaring at the window, as if somehow, if he gave it a dark enough look the sun may decide to go back down. He was almost disappointed when Mozart shifted and opened his eyes, but he smiled, looking at the sleepy expression, the tired blue framed by the long platinum eyelashes.  
Salieri kissed his forehead again with a soft "Good morning."  
"Good morning," Mozart mumbled, curling up tighter and burying his face in Salieri's chest.  
Salieri chuckled.  
"My sentiments exactly."  
"Good night..."  
He laughed.

Mozart drug his feet through the snow hours later, silently cursing society and its ills for making him live anywhere but with Salieri. He had half a mind just to flop down in it and spend the next few hours in silent contemplation instead of enduring hours of the yelling and crying around the house while he tried to work.  
He stopped, eyeing a large mound of the fluffy looking stuff pushed off the side of the walk and was just starting to walk forward when he noticed the corner of a black cloak again vanishing around the same street corner. At first he ignored it, assuming it belonged to someone who lived in the area until a figure stepped from the shadows.  
A figure wrapped up tightly in the cloak.  
A figure with the top of its head capped with a tricorn.  
A figure with its face hidden behind a mask that still occasionally haunted his nightmares.  
Mozart froze in terror.  
It didn't move, merely starred at him accusingly.  
Mozart willed himself to move, and fled home as fast as his legs would take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mio dolce lupo..." = My sweet/gentle wolf.  
"Vieni Qui, mio dolce cioccolatino." = Come, my little truffle cake. Cioccolatino also means chocolate.
> 
> Feel free to correct if wrong.
> 
> Yes, he would have thrown himself in the snow, because let's face it, Antonio Salieri is 90% of Mozart's impulse control.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Schaffer all but murdered Mozart and Salieri's timeline and I find myself bending it with Joseph II for fun, because I like him better. For obvious reasons. We'll get to that later.
> 
> I learn the HTML. Please have patience while I do so. Will take any and all advice.
> 
> Again, if my Italian is horribly wrong please, please feel free to correct it.

"Wolfgang, it was just your imagination," Constanze insisted.  
Mozart paced their apartment in distress, continuously running his hands through his hair.  
"He was there! He was out there!" He cried, his anxiety causing his voice to rise.  
"Oh, this is ridiculous, I'm going to look for footprints," Constanze said, reaching for her cloak.  
"Stanze, no!"  
Mozart grabbed her arm and pulled her back.  
"It's too dangerous!"  
"You're being absurd, Wolfie, that whole thing is over, remember?"  
"He was THERE Constanze, I saw him! I'm not crazy!"  
"Well, even if you are we can't do anything about it tonight."  
Mozart stood there dumbfound.  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
"Well, if you won't let me go look for footprints and you won't leave the house it's not like we can go get the police now, can we?"  
"I suppose not..."  
"Now then, supper is ready, if you're quite finished."

The next morning Mozart raced out of the house and realized with disappointment that the snow had fallen three more inches over night, erasing any tracks he may have hoped for. He set off gloomily for Salieri's.  
He was admitted by the doorman but told to wait, as Salieri was with a student. Mozart took the time to calm down and look around, admiring Salieri's finer tastes in things. He ran his fingers lightly over some of the statues and paused to gaze at the paintings. He had looked at them before, he had spent some time trying to figure Salieri out, though it seemed the more questions he answered the more he had. The artwork was unique, a strange, somewhat controversial flavour, and dark, depicting scenes Mozart had not seen in other houses. Stories of gods and mythology, of legends and heroes, some lighter, gatherings of figures, but some darker, even violent. Strangely these made Mozart smile, he likened Salieri to them, knowing now that the man had carved his way into society with his own hands, with his own ambition, and his own gifts.  
His gaze fell on something that felt both out of place and yet somehow entirely at home. It was a small statue of Danaius, which, Mozart reasoned, given Salieri's success was unsurprising, but on closer inspection he realized something curious. The statue was damaged, the chains binding Danaius were broken, something which seemed unlike Salieri to him. He ran his finger over the rough edges, wondering what had caused them. The destruction appeared deliberate and he made a mental note to question Salieri later.  
It was some time before Salieri opened the doors and a young man sprinted past Mozart and down and out into the winter air.  
"That boy is nothing but trouble," Salieri fussed, crossing his arms, "He reminds me of you... Wolfgang, are you alright? You look pale."  
Mozart crossed the distance between them and hugged Salieri tightly without a word, burying his face in his jacket and willing the rest of the world to go away, to leave him alone.  
"Lupo...?"  
Salieri hugged him, resting his head against Mozart's and stood there for awhile, rocking gently on his heels.  
"He was there..." Mozart mumbled finally, "I'm NOT crazy..."  
"Who was there?"  
Mozart let go enough he could be understood better.  
"I was on my way home yesterday and I saw him. I stopped to look at the snow and there he was, the cloaked man, standing in an alley. He didn't say anything, he didn't move. Stanze wanted to go back to look at the footprints, she didn't believe me, she thought I was losing my mind. I wouldn't let her, it was too dangerous. There was too much snow this morning to see any tracks... Antontio, please..."  
Salieri frowned, his mind scrambling for a reasonable explanation. When he didn't have one he sighed.  
"I believe you, lupo... Until we can answer this I ask that you don't go anywhere alone."  
Mozart exhaled in relief.  
"Antonio, thank you..."  
"Come... I've started work on something and I would like your thoughts on it."

Salieri did his best to distract Mozart with music, with food, with talk of literature and theater, but he could see the worry gnawing on him silently the entire evening.  
"Wolfgang... Mio caro lupo... Ti amo... You mustn't fret, carissimo... Amore mio... I swore I would keep you safe, did I not?"  
Mozart nodded, biting his thumb.  
Salieri sighed and pulled him gently into his arms, kissing the side of his head.  
"Stop that, you'll hurt yourself," he chided, pulling his hand away, "Let me take care of it, trust me."  
Mozart hugged him again as tight as he dared, hiding his face.  
"Can I stay here tonight?"  
"You certainly may... Be easy, amore, I've got you."  
"Antonio... You know I love you, right? More than anything?"  
Salieri nodded, "Yes, I know. I love you too."  
Mozart griped the back of his jacket tighter.  
"Don't let me lose you."  
For a moment Salieri was too stunned to reply, amazed that Mozart's fears had worked themselves that far.  
"Vita mia... Cuore mio... I promise you I'm not going anywhere... You have my word," he replied softly, kissing the top of Mozart's head.  
"Antonio?"  
"Hmm?"  
"The statue of Danaius out in the hall... How did it get broken?"  
He felt Salieri tense and draw a sharp breath, making Mozart look up at him worriedly.  
"That... It's not..."  
"What's wrong?"  
Salieri sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly.  
"I wrote the story of Danaius in anger, Wolfgang... And in that anger, in that pain, I was unfair," He replied quietly, before smiling bitterly, "I did not take your actions lightly, I am afraid, as you well know. I imagined, when I wrote..."  
Mozart starred in shock as Salieri let go of him and twisted his hands anxiously, looking for the best way to explain his actions.  
"I saw you in that role..." He said finally, "Before I understood anything, but once I did, I couldn't bear it. I broke the chains on the statue, unable to handle the thought... You don't have to forgive me. I-"  
"I probably deserved that one... Considering what you thought I did with Katerina." Mozart reasoned, putting the situation together.  
Salieri shook his dark head fiercely.  
"You did not."  
"Adone, let it go. It doesn't matter now. I know how you really feel."  
"I'm so sorry..."  
Mozart took his hands.  
"Don't be sorry, it's over. All that is over. Let's just enjoy the evening the best we can..." He put his arms back around Salieri, dropping his head on his chest, "Kind of flattering really, in some incredibly bizarre way."  
"Only you would think that," Salieri muttered.

Mozart brushed the side of Salieri's face, watching him sleep, his expression twisted in a slight frown, making Mozart wonder what he was dreaming about. He was still unable to quelle his fears, they knotted his insides painfully as he lay there unable to sleep, his mind conjuring up scenarios, each more unpleasant than the last. The ones in which something happened to the court composer shook him to the core. The more violent they became the sicker he felt.  
He realized he was crying bitterly, angry at how unfair it all was.  
"Wolfgang?" came a sleepy, puzzled voice.  
Mozart cursed himself silently.  
"I didn't mean to wake you..."  
Salieri sighed, petting his face, wiping the tears away.  
"Amore mio... Ti amo... It's okay, everything is alright, you'll see. Tomorrow I will deal with Walsegg."  
"I'm going with you."  
Salieri hugged him close.  
"If that is your wish. Hush now. Sleep."  
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but after what felt like hours, even wrapped in what was, for him, the safest embrace in the world, Mozart fell victim to nightmares.  
His shriek as he awoke caused both of them to sit up right and before he realized he was even awake and that it had all been a dream he was pulled into a tight hug.  
"Breathe... Easy... Shh... It's okay..."  
He sat there shaking uncontrollably, his hands wrapped awkwardly around Salieri's arms as he rocked and continued to hush him gently, kissing the top of his head and murmuring reassurances.  
Eventually Mozart sat up and took Salieri by the face, trying to see him clearly in the dark.  
"Lupo... I swear to you, on my life, on our love, you won't lose me, and I won't lose you."  
Salieri took Mozart's hand and kissed his wrist.  
"I don't give a damn what I have to do."

Salieri rapped on Walsegg's door with all the ferocity of a starving animal trying to obtain its meal, half prowling the premises like an agitated panther as he waited. Mozart watched him, wide-eyed, standing nervously on the walk, fidgeting with the hem of his coat.  
He hadn't spoken a word the entire walk, but Mozart had watched the emotion and tension quietly building with every step, making him anxious.  
The door opened and Salieri all but seized the doorman by his coat, surprising not only the doorman but eliciting a noise from Mozart as well, making him jump.  
"I wish to speak with Walsegg," Salieri said in a measured calm, letting the doorman know by his expression that he was anything but.  
The doorman made a funny sound.  
"H.. Herr Baron Walsegg hasn't been home in t-two weeks..." He stammered, at odds with being randomly assaulted by Italian composers.  
"He hasn't?" Salieri growled, towering over his prey.  
"S... Signore, please, I don't know where he has gone, he hasn't told anyone!"  
Salieri let go abruptly, causing the doorman to fall to the ground in a heap.  
"Tell your master that the second he shows his face, masked or unmasked, I wish to speak with it... If I am feeling generous enough to do so. Pray he does not keep me waiting. Should he do so the consequences may be dire."  
The doorman nodded vigorously as Salieri walked away.  
Mozart stood there rooted to the spot, starring at Salieri as though he had never seen him before, his jaw hanging open.  
"Mozart... Venire..."  
He touched his arm gently but Mozart didn't move.  
"Wolfgang... It's alright... I'm not going to hurt anyone, but I'm not going to let them think they can keep scaring you like this either. I promise."  
Mozart nodded slightly and started walking, following Salieri back to his apartments in silence.

"Antonio..." Mozart said quietly, as Salieri took his coat.  
"Wolfgang?"  
"How far would you go?"  
Salieri smiled grimly.  
"Wolfgang, I nearly killed you and I love you more than anything in this world..." He replied, taking Mozart's jaw lightly, "If you think I would not kill _for_ you, you are mistaken."__  
Mozart gawked at him.  
Salieri let go with a sigh.  
"I've upset you, I know, but I have drawn a firm line where you are concerned and no one may cross it. I have lost so much, and so many, I will not lose you too. I will not stand for someone so much as pulling your hair."  
Mozart made an amused noise in disbelief.  
"I love you," Salieri continued quietly, looking at Mozart seriously, "I don't want anyone to hurt you. Not them, not me, not anyone. Perhaps I went too far, but I'm not going to hurt anyone unless they give me cause to."  
"So what would make you kill someone?" Mozart asked sharply.  
Salieri inclined his head, still studying him.  
"If your life was in danger I would not hesitate. I will protect you with my life, and I offer it to you with no strings attached."  
Mozart fell into another shocked silence, but this one much different. Salieri took his hands and looked at them with a tired smile.  
"Whether you like it or not, whether you want me or not, my life is yours," He said, his voice cracking slightly, "I respect any decision you make. I know-"  
Mozart slipped his hand away and put his fingers to Salieri's lips.  
"Now who talks too much? Antonio, I love you too. I was just surprised. I had never seen you like that."  
"What were you expecting, Wolfgang? An Italian without a temper is like a composer without a song."  
Mozart grinned.  
"I suppose that's fair."  
He rubbed his eyes, starting to realize how tired he felt.  
"You worked yourself up way too much," Salieri said softly, brushing Mozart's hair back, "Please get some rest. You are welcome to say here."  
"Will you stay with me?"  
Salieri smiled.  
"Did I not promise you over a year ago that I was not leaving you?"  
Mozart took his hand and followed Salieri across the room before he stopped abruptly.  
"Wolfgang?"  
He reached up and pulled the wig off of Salieri's head, setting it aside. Salieri's confusion was clear as Mozart took his face, running his fingers over his scars.  
"These are so stunning... You are so sublime... So elegant... What dark magic is it that you possess? I swear you bewitch me with every glance... But you must promise me one thing, Antonio Salieri, and one thing only..." He said softly, locking eyes with him seriously, watching Salieri's widen with shock and a vulnerability he hadn't seen before.  
"Lupo?"  
"Even if you leave you come back to me. You keep yourself safe. You don't let me lose you. I couldn't bear it."  
"Did I not already? Several times?"  
"Let me hear it one more time. You must understand, I would not hesitate to give you my own life. Not for a second."  
Salieri looked briefly alarmed before he gave a short nod.  
"Very well. I promise you, lupo... I know you are worried, but is there something more?"  
He watched as Mozart paled, a spark of fear in his eyes.  
"I keep having these dreams... These ideas... These scenarios that keep playing in my head, over and over again..." He said quietly, "You're bleeding in my arms, and I can't stop it. The scene changes each time, the cause changes, but the results are always the same. I beg God for you, but I never find out if my prayers are answered."  
Salieri swallowed, unnerved, but he took one of Mozart's hand gently.  
"That's not going to happen."  
Mozart nodded, thin lipped.  
"It better not. I don't know what I would do if I wasn't allowed to wake up to this wonderful face."  
He smiled a little as he felt the heat of Salieri's blush, then leaned up and kissed him. Salieri's hands found his his waist, drawing him closer.  
Mozart pulled him forward enough to whisper in his hear.  
"Remind me you're alive, la mia anima."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> carissimo = dearest/beloved  
vita mia = my life (This is not something you casually throw around and call just anyone. To my understanding this is a big deal.)  
cuore mio = my heart  
amore mio = my love  
venire = come  
la mia anima = my soul, also not used lightly from what I see.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really want to thank everyone who has read, commented, and left kudos on all of these, thank you so much, your feedback has been way more than I expected. Back on FF.Net years ago when I was posting much older work there was mostly static so it means the world to me and I'm always willing to listen to whatever you have to say.

Mozart stood off to the side of a soiree the next evening, uncharacteristically withdrawn, watching Salieri a ways off speaking with a man he didn't recognize. He tried to be inconspicuous, trying to alternate his focus to the glass of water in his hand, but that rapidly became impossible.  
An easy, genuine smile spread across Salieri's face, stealing Mozart's breath in an instant. It was an expression he had never seen before during their time together, completely unreserved, lifting the stress from his appearance, letting some of the inner light he had sensed before spill out, shattering the darker vibe he usually carried. He had the illusion of basking in the sun though he was nowhere near it. To Mozart it was the most hauntingly beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. His heart ached, wishing the smile had been directed at him.  
He moved forward without thinking, wanting to be closer.  
"Ah, Mozart," Salieri greeted warmly, unable to keep the affection out of his voice, "We were just speaking about you."  
It was for him.  
That smile had been for him.  
His heart nearly stopped.  
And his voice, the color of Salieri's voice had changed, giving Mozart the same feeling he got when the Court Composer had ran his fingers along his spine, wrapping his ears and heart in the same embrace he had felt whenever he heard Salieri sing.  
"Maestro..." Mozart said quietly, his fingers itching, tearing him between wanting to compose and wanting to grab Salieri by the collar and drag him to the nearest empty room.  
"This is Herr Karl von Haeften, he has heard much about you but has yet to have the honor of hearing your work," Salieri continued, "I was actually wondering if you would mind if I mentioned your latest composition?"  
"I'm rewriting it," Mozart said suddenly, causing Salieri's expression to falter. He could have kicked himself for it.  
"You never rewrite anything," Salieri said in surprise.  
"I'm unhappy with it, I've thought of a much better story, Signore. One you'll both hear soon enough."  
The curiosity that lit Salieri's features was just as open as his smile had been.  
"It would be an honor," von Haeften replied.  
Salieri smiled again, a flicker of pride in his eyes.  
"I look forward to it."  
Mozart smiled smally and was mostly quiet until von Haeften wandered away into the crowd.  
"Are you feeling alright?" Salieri asked softly, studying his face in concern.  
"I'm fine," Mozart assured him, refraining from setting a hand on his arm.  
"I know you're still worried, but this is hardly your usual behavior in public."  
Mozart shrugged.  
"Maybe this is how I should be."  
He watched the smile fall from Salieri's face entirely, stealing the light with it and replacing it with an emphasis on a much more stormy sensation.  
"Be yourself, Mozart, I beg you," He whispered.  
Mozart starred at him.  
"But..."  
"Please..."  
He stood there in wonder. A year ago he assumed Salieri would have have begged him to behave, but now?  
"God knows this party could use some life," Salieri continued, giving him another small smile.

Hours later after causing an ungodly amount of strife and forcing Salieri to hide his smiles and laughter behind his hands and a false look of exasperation Mozart let him play at "escorting the fiend home."  
It wasn't even a block and a half away that Salieri broke down laughing, making Mozart stop in his tracks.  
"Dear God... Mio amore lupo, I don't know what to do with you!"  
The light and warmth was back, easing Mozart's nerves. He was starting to feel safe again, and he gave no more thought to von Walsegg or the figure the rest of the night, preferring instead to place his attention on this newfound hole in Salieri's walls. He had the barest hope that he would not seal it away again, burying his emotions into his music with all the violence of swinging a hatchet.  
"I'm asking myself that same question... Antonio Salieri, what do I do with you?" Mozart mused, reaching out and taking his hand, "But I think the answer is clear."  
"Oh?"  
"I'm quite sure the answer is just to keep you by my side," Mozart said, kissing his fingers.  
"I like that answer, lupo... Quite a lot."  
They fell into a comfortable silence for awhile, the only sound that of the snow crunching beneath their feet.  
"Some day I'll take you to the mountains in Italy," Salieri decided, "I'll let you play in the snow there. I think you'd rather enjoy it."  
Mozart looked up in surprise. Salieri did not speak of Italy often, unless it was related to music or food, nor did he give any indication of ever wanting to return there.  
"I think with you I could go... I could enjoy it... Though, we would have to invest in different attire for you... I rather think the Italian sun would burn you to a crisp," He said with amusement, "I think a burnt red would clash rather badly with your hair."  
"Antonio," Mozart breathed, stunned.  
"Think about it, let me know at some point. Perhaps I could even get leave to take you across Venice. The idea of you framed by the moon and the water is rather a striking one."  
Mozart wasn't able to reply, a strange feeling dancing around his chest and stomach.  
"You don't have to say yes, of course. I know you have obligations, just as I do, but it's nice to dream of it."  
"I'd love to," He whispered.  
The smile he received was more radiant than the one he had seen before, Mozart fancied it could have easily lit the entire night had it wanted. Salieri quickly kissed the side of his head.  
"Good. Some day we'll go. I'll take you across the country with me, perhaps I'd take you everywhere."  
Salieri stopped with a funny look that split into a grin.  
"What?" Mozart asked in amazement.  
"I could steal you away to the Americas, I could have you to myself, with me always," He said, taking Mozart's jaw by his fingertips. He laughed, "Ah, wouldn't that be something? A fairytale ending for us, it's true, but a fantasy I'll cherish."  
Mozart felt a strong warmth spread through him, the idea was enticing, even if he knew it could never be. Or...?  
"Is it so far away?" He asked softly.  
Salieri tilted his head, reminding Mozart of a schoolboy trying to answer a difficult question.  
"Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't," He said finally, "It depends on how life goes."  
Mozart grinned.  
"Well, one can swing life in any direction they choose. Our fate is our own to decide, right?"  
Salieri inclined his head again.  
"Some would have us believe."  
"Then let's make ours," He said excitedly, grabbing Salieri's hand, "However we want. Let's prove them right. All this music about gods and legends, so little about real life, why not somewhere in the middle?"  
Salieri smiled.  
"Very well, lupo," He said, kissing Mozart's own fingers, "We will do what we can."

Mozart had struggled to convince Salieri he would be fine walking home by himself the next morning, starting to wonder if he had imagined the mask man after all and that he would be fine in broad daylight, out in the open among other people. Salieri had fussed and they argued for the better part of an hour before one of Salieri's students gave him no choice but to allow Mozart to go. He sang under his breath as he walked, one of Salieri's arias, his mind chasing the conversation from the night before. He spun around a few times, thinking of what it would be like to be in the middle of nowhere in a country far away, gazing up at the stars with Salieri beside him, with no one to answer to and nothing pressing down on them.  
He was so lost in thought again that he glanced over the figure before it even registered what he had seen.  
Mozart did a double take, his heart stopping as he spotted the man standing on a street corner, watching him in perfect silence.  
A scream rose in the back of his throat and he ran, this time choosing to retrace his steps back to Salieri's apartments.  
He crashed through the doors unceremoniously, ignoring the protests of the doorman and fell on the floor, yelling at him to shut and lock the place The disturbance caused the upstairs door to open and Salieri to peer over the rail in confusion.  
"Wolfgang, what is going on?"  
Mozart realized he must look half insane, sprawled in a heap on Salieri's floor covered in snow with his hat askew atop his head.  
"He's out there. Down the street."  
Salieri was down the stairs, having jumped part of them, and out the door before Mozart could even think of objecting. His heart slammed in his chest in terror and he followed him at a run, but he found Salieri nearly alone on the street, looking around.  
"Where, specifically?" he asked.  
Mozart walked to the corner and was relieved to see the footprints remained.  
"Here."  
"What on earth...?"  
He faltered, looking back down and he realized something uncomfortably. There were no footprints leading away from the corner.  
"Did he retraced his steps? Go back inside, lupo, I'll figure this out."  
"Like hell you will!" Mozart cried, grabbing his wrist, "I'm coming with you or neither of us are going."  
"He could be halfway across Vienna by the time you're done," Salieri grumbled, frowning as he looked closer at the tracks, "They don't show any indications of him going back... No one is skilled enough to walk backwards through their tracks perfectly in this mess."  
He looked up.  
"Perhaps he went through the window?" He mused.  
"You're not going in alone," Mozart said quickly.  
Salieri went to the door and knocked, smiling icily at the man who opened it.  
"Maestro Salieri!" He exclaimed.  
"Quite. Tell me, you wouldn't be hiding someone in here, would you? Someone has given my dear friend Mozart here quite a start... A man in a dark cloak?"  
The man shook his head.  
"No sir, it's just me today."  
Salieri nodded to himself, his expression reserved.  
"I see. Sorry for bothering you. Come, Mozart, we'll sort this out."  
Without another word he took Mozart's arm and led them back to the apartments.  
"Antonio, I-"  
"Enough. I repeat myself, you will not go anywhere without an escort, but now it is final. You will remain here long enough for me to complete this lesson, God help me to do so, and then, should you still desire to go home, I will take you myself."  
Mozart tried to think of something to say but Salieri was already up the stairs and back through the doors before he found even a "Wait..."  
He glanced at Salieri's doorman, who looked throughly disgruntled.  
"Sorry."  
Unsure of what to do, Mozart sat down on the steps to wait, listening to the sounds of the lesson from behind the door.  
Salieri's normally gentle tones had a stressed edge to them, but it hardly detoured his student, who was puzzled with the interruption. Salieri would give him no details, instead he urged the youth to play.

Roughly an hour passed. Mozart had removed his hat and coat but still sat on the steps gloomily. While he feared the masked man Salieri's sudden coldness had dampened his spirits.  
The door opened again at the top of the stairs and the youth sprinted down them, glancing at Mozart on the way. Mozart offered him a smile and wave but they were barely returned before the youth was gone.  
He heard Salieri sigh behind him.  
"Your timing, Herr Mozart, is simply atrocious."  
The address made Mozart feel as though he had swallowed a billiard ball and it had caught in his throat.  
"Come in," Salieri beckoned, "I'm sorry for the wait. Can I get you anything?"  
Mozart shook his head and sat down awkwardly in a chair, suddenly feeling out of place. Salieri sat down across from him, resting his head on his hand.  
"I'm sorry for making a scene," Mozart said quietly, wondering what else he could say, "And interrupting your lesson."  
Salieri winced.  
"Given the situation you hardly need to do either, lupo."  
Mozart held out his hands helplessly, unable to keep the emotion off of his face. He heard Salieri sigh again as he closed his eyes. He wasn't sure what he expected but it wasn't the warm embrace he received and the kiss on top of his head.  
"You frighten me, Amadeus, your health still gives me a start. You're shaking like you've been struck by lighting and you've hardly stopped since you first laid eyes back on that monster. Last night was the first night, and now here we are again... I worry the fear alone may take you from me if I don't make it absolutely clear that I will not let anyone hurt you again. I swear to you, I love you more than life itself. I won't let anything happen. I'm not going to lose you. I'm not going to let Walsegg, or the Masons, or sickness, or even God take you from me. I will find whoever is doing this to you and that, as they say, will be that."  
Mozart opened his eyes and starred at Salieri, looking at the troubled expression on his face, his mind stuck briefly on "Amadeus."  
"Antonio..."

Salieri sent a message to Constanze, explaining the situation, but when Mozart admitted he had no desire to leave, refused to let him set foot outside of the house for the rest of the day. Mozart spent the first half listening to Salieri compose, not feeling overly talkative. The sounds lulled him into a state of calm as he lay on the couch, and then eventually to sleep.  
Salieri was relieved, and stopped playing only once he was certain Mozart was out. He sat at the piano for a bit, looking at the tiny body curled in on itself, the occassional shiver still running through it, before he got up and covered Mozart with a blanket.  
"My sweet lupo..." he sighed, feeling his heart ache, "I'm so sorry. I never thought it would come to this."  
He smiled sadly, wondering how Mozart had dug himself so far underneath his skin. The past two days had been something far removed from normal for Salieri, even he had been surprised at the way he had smiled, at the way he had talked. Mozart was somehow chipping at the fortress he had spent so long constructing around himself, and for the first time Salieri found he didn't mind someone doing it.  
"I'll find that bastard, Wolfgang, you'll see... And I swear to God he will pay."

When Mozart awoke he was surprised to see that evening had fallen and a soft, warm blanket had been tucked around him.  
He looked around for Salieri and when he didn't see him bit his lip in worry, getting up and and wandering around the room, listening closely.  
He could hear the sound of the wind, but it didn't rush through the place, it wasn't unnerving, just a gentle sound here, he was safe in this house. A soft noise from another room caught his attention and he moved forward, peering through the cracked door. What he saw made his jaw drop.  
He had found Salieri, but not quite how he expected. He had found him dancing, the man's supple frame twisting gracefully in ways that put a myriad of thoughts in Mozart's mind, everything from proper thoughts and performance ideas on down. His eyes raked over Salieri's form, taking in the sight with silent glee, watching the firelight cast its shadows, watching the shadows themselves spin and move in delightful fashions that made Mozart's fanciful imagination take flight. Every motion was lyrical and effortless in ways Mozart had not seen in the court dancers or even in Constanze.  
He wasn't sure how long he stood there, entranced, nor was he sure when Salieri noticed him, the only indication being the subtle smile that crossed his face.  
Eventually he stopped, his back partially turned towards the door.  
"Are you just going to stand there hiding, lupo?" He asked softly.  
Mozart pushed the door open shyly and stepped around it, blushing.  
"I didn't want to disturb you... Where did you learn to dance like that?"  
Salieri grabbed a towel and started drying his hair and the back of his neck.  
"Gassmann came to Vienna as a court ballet composer," Salieri explained, "He was somewhat strict... A perfectionist. I learned to dance as his ward. I continue to practice, I prefer to stay in shape."  
"I'm not a refined man, Antonio..." Mozart said quietly, watching him closely, "I have no words to describe what I just saw... Incredible sounds like an insult... The only words I have for you are 'absolute perfection,' but even those sound poor."  
Salieri look at him curiously from around the towel, making Mozart smile fondly.  
"Would you ever consider dancing on stage?"  
Salieri laughed abruptly.  
"Oh God, no... Good heavens, I appreciate your words, my sweet lupo, I do, but I am not fit for that."  
Mozart's face fell.  
"Antonio Salieri, I disagree. No one is more fit for the stage."  
Salieri shook his head, but held out his hand.  
"I will not be dancing on stage, lupo, I draw the line at opera I am afraid, but, if you so wish, I will dance with you."  
Mozart felt like someone had just knocked the wind out of him.  
"Stanze tried to teach me some... I'm rather dismal I'm afraid..."  
Salieri grinned.  
"Then I suppose I will have to teach you first. Come," he prompted, holding his hand out further.  
Mozart took it nervously, feeling his face burn.  
"You're funeral," He muttered.  
He chuckled.  
"What should I teach you first..."  
"How not to trip over myself may be a good start."  
"Do I look like a miracle worker?"  
Mozart paused for a moment, looking at Salieri's grin, his badly disheveled hair, the light glinting off his eyes.  
"Yes," He said finally, "You look like an angel."  
Salieri's grin slipped to surprise.  
"Alright, alright, don't ruin it. Give me your hands. We'll start with something simple."  
Mozart set his hands in Salieri's and Salieri placed one of them on his shoulder and took Mozart's waist with the other.  
"In general, this would be improper," Salieri told him, "And not just because we're both men. Now, I'm going to take a step to the left, all you have to do is follow me."  
Mozart nodded, his attention automatically glued to Salieri's eyes this close, gazing into the warm abyss. He felt like he was falling, drowning, and not for the first time he noted how long the dark eyelashes were that framed the onyx gaze.  
"You're hopeless," Salieri laughed, kissing the top of his head, "Focus, my dearest."  
Mozart blushed and glanced down, trying to find his feet and follow Salieri. It wasn't too long and Salieri was leading him around the room in a somewhat awkward but functional waltz.  
Mozart's face lit up and for the first time since that morning he felt like he could breathe properly. He dropped his head against Salieri's chest as they danced, the feeling of his shirt was soft, a mix of its freshness and Salieri's scent filling his senses. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension slip from his body. Salieri kissed him again.  
"That's it, lupo... Just relax."  
"Gassmann taught you well."  
Salieri did not reply at first, causing Mozart to look up and note the bitter smile on his face.  
"I suppose he did, yes."  
Mozart stopped moving, almost making Salieri walk into him.  
"Antonio..."  
Salieri shook his head, silently cursing himself for breaking the spell.  
"Damn it... No, I mean it, Wolfgang, I-"  
"You're lying to me... I understand if you don't want to tell me-"  
"I'm not lying. He did teach me well, he taught me very well... He was just a bastard about it. It's alright-"  
Mozart pushed Salieri's sleeve up his arm, exposing the scarred flesh underneath, the pale and pink marks standing out loudly against Salieri's normal dark complexion.  
"'A bastard,'" he echoed, searching Salieri's face.  
Salieri reflexively jerked his arm back, his heart racing, and he pushed his sleeve back down hastily. It was no use, he knew, Mozart was intimately aware of every scar across his body. There was no hiding. There was no masking. He could hardly breathe. The display had hit him with full force, causing every muscle in his body to go rigid. He felt as though Mozart had suddenly stripped him to his skin, leaving him entirely vulnerable, digging his hands into the cracks he had created in his defenses and grasping at his battered, flurried soul. Mozart had reached into his life, into his past, and seized something Salieri had desperately tried to conceal, tried to ignore.  
Mozart's expression twisted in distress and he held out is hands.  
"Okay... It's alright, Antonio... Take it easy... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."  
Salieri swallowed, managing to get a foot hold in his emotions.  
"A bastard, yes," He reiterated, trying to sort his tongue, "A good man, yes... Yes, yes... Very good... But a bastard."  
A tremor ran through his body and he felt his eyes burn. He cursed softly in Italian, swaying on the spot.  
"Adone... May I touch you?" Mozart asked, his worry hanging on each word.  
Salieri nodded and Mozart gently took his upper arms.  
"Hey... I'm sorry... God, you look awful... I've put you through rather a lot-"  
"It's not your fault."  
"You should rest."  
He took Salieri's hand, gently pulling him forward, starring at his face and watching him closely. He led him straight to the bedroom and the second he was beside the bed Mozart gave him the slightest push and watched in awe and horror as Salieri went down like a cut tree, dropping onto the bed nearly face first.  
"A... Antonio?"  
Mozart stroked his hair in fear.  
"I'm alright..." He mumbled.  
Mozart sat down on the bed and pulled Salieri into his arms.  
"Bullshit."  
Salieri hugged him awkwardly.  
"I'm sorry... You're the one I was trying to comfort..." He muttered.  
Mozart laughed anxiously, petting his hair.  
"Adone, I love you... I'm honestly shocked... How long have you been hiding this? Have you been this stressed the entire time? How long has this been building? You can talk to me, you can let some of these things go... But please rest... Be easy... I'm here. I'll keep you safe too, I promise."  
Salieri tightened his hold and exhaled, letting those last words echo in his ears as he closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salieri out here challenging God again. You would think he would learn, but no, that's just Salieri.
> 
> To be honest while Salieri may be made of steel and able to keep himself in check everyone has their limits. I would think that Mozart cracking open his shell and then exposing something that raw on top of the fear he already has for the danger Mozart seems to be in would, having already had a stressful year chasing Mozart's health after he nearly died and the events of the film directly before that would be more than enough for anyone. This chapter did like a lot of the others and kind of wrote itself, but I'm not unhappy with the way it went. I don't want him to seem inhuman, the real Salieri was more than capable of masking his emotions but he also wasn't afraid of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to thank everyone who has read, given kudos, and left comments on this series, thank you all so much!

Mozart sat in silence, a strange stillness settled through the house as he held Salieri, gently combing his fingers through his hair. It seeped through the space and danced around him, permeating everything, quieting even his thoughts, leaving only the distant sound of the wind and the closer soft rhythm of Salieri's breath as he slept. It was not heavy, but it was not peaceful, it was somber, as though the air itself was filled with a hushed sorrow.  
He had been worried for Salieri before, he had seen him in pain, he had seen him afraid, but he had never witnessed anything like now. Mozart was starting to realize a few things he had been suspicious of may hold true, but it was also coming to his attention just what kinds of things Salieri kept to himself, and for the first time in awhile Mozart was starting to feel brave again. If Salieri could be strong in the face of something that upset him so badly, then why couldn't he, Mozart, do the same?  
He hooked his arms around Salieri better, giving him a gentle squeeze. He didn't stir, but his grip on Mozart slipped, his hands starting to relax. A shiver ran through him and Mozart winced, realizing he had sent the man to bed after spending who knows how long dancing, not giving him a chance to fully dry off and change.  
"Antonio, my love..." Mozart called quietly, gently shaking him.  
Salieri's eyes opened with a small start.  
"Hey, let's find you some night clothes."  
He sat up in a daze and let Mozart take his shirt but when he reached for the lace of his trousers he seized Mozart's wrist, a look of terror in his eyes.  
Mozart's heart nearly shattered on the spot and his stomach flipped in horror. His mind scrambled, trying to think of something soothing to say, remembering how Salieri had treated him all those months ago.  
"Shh... It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you... I just don't want you catching a chill, if you haven't already. I just want to find you some dry clothes."  
Nervously Salieri let go and Mozart managed to help him change without upsetting him further. He no sooner pulled the covers up over him when Salieri folded his arms around him again tightly.  
Mozart sat there numbly, running his hands through Salieri's hair and petting his neck, suddenly very aware of both the storm outside and the one in his embrace. He looked down at Salieri, his chest constricted and knotting in alarm. In the matter of an instant the silence had become painfully loud.

Mozart wasn't entirely aware of the passage of time until the sunlight started to stream in through the windows. He had spent the night lost in thought and worry. He hadn't even noticed that Salieri had relaxed against him at some point.  
The sight of the sun made him note his surroundings, and then look down. Salieri's expression was neutral, his grip slack, his breath easy. Mozart sighed in relief and contented himself with watching Salieri sleep for awhile until the court composer made a funny face and shifted, opening his eyes just barely. A frown creased his features and he opened them wider.  
"Oh..." He mumbled.  
He sat up hastily, embarrassed.  
"Wolfgang, have you been sitting like this all night?"  
Mozart smiled, took his face and kissed him.  
"Do you really think I would have done anything else?"  
Salieri smiled faintly, rubbing Mozart's wrist with his thumb.  
"Grazie..."  
Mozart was about to reply when Salieri hugged him, burying his face in his shoulder.  
"Antonio..."  
"My sweet lupo, mio caro lupo... Ti amo, ti amo..."  
Mozart hugged him a little tighter. He kissed his neck and rubbed his shoulders.  
"I love you... You know you can talk to me, right?"  
Salieri sighed.  
"I know... Just give me time."  
"How about some breakfast? I think we could both use something to eat."

A few hours later Mozart sat on the couch with Salieri's head in his lap while the older composer worked on a list.  
"Those names are lodge member names," Mozart observed, carding Salieri's hair absently.  
"Yes, they are. I'm going to question all of them as to Walsegg's whereabouts. Thankfully we don't have to go through the entire lodge. I would prefer to just break into that shop and have it over with but somehow I don't think I could explain that very well to the Emperor... I would rather you stayed here."  
"Fat chance," Mozart said flatly, "You're not walking into this without me."  
Salieri lowered the list and fixed Mozart with a strange expression.  
"I already told you that. Besides, if you get into hot water you'll need someone to provide a distraction to get you out, and who better to do that than me?"  
Salieri smiled dryly.  
"My dearest lupo, you have the strangest form of conceit I've seen on a man."  
Mozart shrugged.  
"Who do we start with?"  
"Well... We might as well just make a circle of it..."

"Okay... How many more on the list?" Mozart asked, glancing at the sun starting to set.  
"Twelve," Salieri replied, kicking at the snow, "Not a damn one... I mean, some of them did sound like they were lying, but we need something solid... Or I need to start breaking heads, one of the two."  
Mozart smiled cheekily, enjoying the mental image.  
"You're a heinously attractive man when you're angry."  
Salieri blushed and held out his hands.  
"I don't understand any of this. Walsegg has no reason to be coming after you, we finished the requiem. I suppose it's possible they still want you dead for the Magic Flute, but why do this, in that case? Unless they would prefer it if you just seemed crazy?"  
"They're a little late," said Mozart with a smile, "I'm perfectly capable of seeming that on my own."  
Salieri chuckled.  
"I feel as though we are missing something. When I questioned van Swieten he was angry that I brought the situation up, and even more when I pressed the issue, but the irritating bastard never slipped. Remind me to revisit him when all of this is over."  
"What are you going to do?"  
"Put him in his place."  
"Antonio..."  
"I won't tolerate it, Wolfgang. He seemed angry that you were even alive. He brought up the opera and the exposure of the lodge. It's under some scrutiny, I am to understand. I wouldn't know personally, I haven't attended a meeting since that night."  
"You haven't?" Mozart asked surprised.  
"Do you think I would?" Salieri asked, amused, "Why would I visit a place that tried to murder the only person I love?"  
Mozart stopped in his tracks for a moment.  
"Adone, I don't know what to say..."  
"You don't have to say anything."  
"Promise me you'll be careful, I don't want them coming after you too."  
"I promise. If I find out he's the one behind this there will be hell to pay. We should head back, we can finish this tomorrow, it's getting late and I don't want you getting sick."  
"I don't want you to either... What is it?"  
Salieri had stopped, looking off into the distance, his posture tensing, coiling like a spring. Mozart followed his gaze and spotted the cloaked man standing at the street corner. He moved to grab Salieri's wrist in alarm but he was too late, he grabbed thin air as Salieri sprinted down the street after the figure who took off running.  
"Antonio, no! Wait!"

Rage was causing the corners of his vision to do strange things, his heart slamming as he half ran half slid down the icy street, determined to catch the cloaked man at all costs. He barely paid any attention to where they were going, his eyes locked on his prey.  
"If you stop now I won't kill you!" Salieri offered in more of a snarl than a yell.  
The man infront of him paid his threats no mind and kept running. Salieri's patience abruptly reached its end and he threw himself forward, tackling the figure to the ground with a roar, knocking off the hat and the mask.  
A scruffy man grinned at him in a less than sane manner.  
"You're not Walsegg..." Salieri breathed, "Who the hell-?"  
Before Salieri could even process anything more the sound of close gunfire shattered the stillness of the night and made him nearly leap out of his skin. The man's eyes rolled back in his head as blood started pooling into the snow around them.  
Salieri sat there in horror for a second, realizing the man had shot himself.  
"Gesù... Wolfgang..."  
The idea it had been a setup tore through his mind almost as loudly as the shot itself had and he stood shakily and ran back to where he had left Mozart, retracing his steps, praying he was not too late, begging God.  
The street corner was empty, the snow kicked up in a tussel.  
Salieri's heart tried to force its way out of his chest.  
"Wolfgang!?" he shouted desperately, looking around, "Wolfgang!? Oh God, no... No, no, no, please no..."  
He found light blood splatter on the walk and he fell to his knees, looking up at the sky and pleading.  
"Don't you take him from me..." He whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

"What in the God damn..?" The Emperor exclaimed.  
Salieri didn't know what time it was, only that his eyes burned and his body was seriously starting to object to the strain he was putting on it. He swayed on the spot, not knowing what a sight he looked, the blood staining his clothes, in places soaking the material entirely. A shiver ran through him, the snow that he had been in was mostly melted now, he was dimly aware he was freezing, the hair of his wig clinging to his gaunt face.  
The Emperor's guards had been alerted to the gunfire what seemed like hours ago and they had found Salieri several streets away sitting in the snow in shock.  
"I need to find him," Salieri insisted quietly. He had somehow managed to convey almost the entire situation to Joseph II, but he could barely remember everything he had said, his worry eating him alive.  
"Salieri... Antonio, my dear Antonio..." Joseph II tried, taking him by the arms and making him jump, "I'm sorry... Listen to me, you're not finding anyone in this state. I will have every inch of this city searched for Mozart, we will find him, I promise you. You, however, must go change and rest."  
Salieri shook his head furiously.  
"With all do respect, your majesty, I can't do that."  
Joseph II sighed.  
"Then at least, my old friend, find some dry clothes. I also would much prefer it if you would accept at least one of my guards to accompany you."  
Salieri bowed and mumbled his thanks, almost toppling head first. Joseph II didn't hide his concern, taking his shoulders gently.  
"Be safe, Antonio."

The scream of unbridled emotion Salieri let out made both of Joseph II's guards look around in alarm. They had spent hours trying to trace the tracks in the snow but the storms had made it all but impossible. Salieri's knees buckled underneath him and he found himself kneeling, sobbing in anger, in fear, in pain. Praying.  
"Maestro..." One of the guards began.  
"Let's take him home."  
"No!"  
Salieri tried to struggle but only succeeded in nearly face planting into the snow.  
"I'm sorry, Signore, but our orders are to keep you alive too."  
He swore.  
"We'll find him, Signore."

Mozart winced as he awoke, his skull throbbing with a vengeful headache. He pushed himself up from the cold floor and tried to see through the dark.  
"Where am I? What is this place?"  
There was no response and he felt around, discovering there was a chain around his ankle, bolted to the floor and making it impossible to explore much of the room. Fear struck him colder than the winter air could hope to.  
"Hello?" He asked nervously.  
Nothing.  
He bit his lip.  
"Alright then... I guess it's just me and my thoughts. Great."  
He hugged himself, rubbing his arms and curling inward.  
"Hey! I just want you to know, you're in big trouble!" He yelled, thinking of the rampage Salieri would likely go on, "And so am I..." he mumbled more softly.  
Mozart rocked a little, uncomfortably aware of the cold and the growling in his stomach, wondering how long it would take someone to find him here. Where was here? He knew Salieri had gone after the cloaked man, but then? Someone had grabbed at him from behind, a taller man, they had struggled, Mozart had felt his head hit something, and then, nothing. What did he know about his assailant? He hadn't seen him. Had he said something? Mozart wracked his brain. No. What did he smell like? Mozart couldn't smell anything.  
He cursed.  
Salieri would come for him. He knew that. No one else might, but Salieri would.  
He thought back to when he had first set eyes on the court composer all those years ago and smiled, deciding his memories would keep him a little warmer. Mozart had been convinced he had walked in to find Joseph II in the company of some dark angel. He had been so taken with Salieri's appearance and voice that he almost didn't notice anyone else in the room, Emperor included. He instantly wanted to know more, to know everything, but even now he had to admit he didn't know much.  
Salieri held everyone at a distance, Mozart was no exception, but some he held closer than others. Mozart had the privilege to witness sides of him few others had, if anyone. He would come, Mozart was certain, and he would wait for him.  
Those years had not yielded a lot of information, Salieri was intensely private, even those who thought they knew him didn't. His thoughts drifted, making him flinch at the grief they had caused each other. He analyzed Salieri through each scene but as he did so he realized it was not the right choice as the memories started to leave him even colder. He watched Salieri's expressions change, from surprise, to disgust, to anger, to pain and sorrow, oh there had been a lot of those two, rage, hatred...  
Mozart swallowed hard.  
"Oh..." He whimpered, feeling like he had just ripped a hole in his own heart, "Oh God..."  
He knew he had hurt Salieri, he had no question as to that, but he hadn't reminisced over the past as he did now. He started to wonder about the last few years.  
Footsteps brought him out of his reverie, making him sit up defensively.  
"Hello, Wolfgang..."

Salieri stood there listening to Constanze screech at him in aggravation, they were wasting time. He had insisted Joseph II's guards take him here with the intention of saving it. Nannerl was much quieter, she had sent the children off to play and sat watching Salieri curiously. They had only met a few times, but Salieri had liked her, surprised to find, quite basically, a level headed female version of Wolfgang. The siblings were virtually inseparable in spirit. The idea had been a terrifying one a first.  
"Stanze..." She began.  
"-AND NOW HE IS OUT GOD KNOWS WHERE-"  
_"Constanze!"_ She half shouted, "We know! This isn't helping!"__  
Constanze fell quiet but gestured wildly, crying.  
"We both know," Nannerl soothed, "But listen to me, we're going to find him, alright? You, sir, are going to catch pneumonia like this and my dear Wolfgang would never forgive me if I allowed you to do that. You go change and we'll meet you there, we need to find someone to keep an eye on Karl and Franz."  
Salieri nodded and left without a word.  
"My Wolfie..."  
"Wofferl will be fine, Stanze... Honestly, wherever he is he's probably cracking stupid jokes and driving his captors up the wall. It's Antonio that's giving me a fright," Nannerl said, digging through the kitchen drawers, "I've never seen such a look in a man. It's like someone tore his soul out... Where did we move the knives?"

_ __ _

Salieri cringed when he finally caught sight of his reflection in a mirror as he strode through his apartments. He barely recognized himself. He took a second to assess his physical state. He was exhausted, cold, hungry but far too anxious to eat, his stomach twisting itself in knots much like his chest, and he was aware that his throat was beginning to feel scratchy. The dark circles around his eyes made him look like a spectre that had recently crawled out of a lake, his eyes wide and starring, his expression torn.  
He would worry about it later.  
He took a brief moment to change and arm himself before starting to head out the door again. Joseph II's guards objected at first, but the look Salieri gave them made them both falter.  
"Where are we going?" One of the guards asked.  
"Van Swieten," Salieri replied, his voice hoarse.  
"I hope you know what you're doing, Signore..."  
"Van Swieten can talk or van Swieten can lose his tongue, it's all the same to me."  
The guards exchanged looks.  
"We're losing time, come."

Mozart sat as stiff as a statue, the voice ringing in his ears, driving itself into his brain like an ice pick, ripping his breath from his body.  
"It's been awhile, how is life treating you?"  
He shrank in on himself, his mind as numb as his body, suddenly wondering if anyone would have the chance to come for him, fear surging through his veins.  
"You've been spending a lot of time with that Italian, Wolfgang," the voice drawled, "He nearly you killed you, didn't he? Or at least he wanted to. He almost got you murdered! I warned you, Wolfgang. I warned you to stay away. That creature will destroy you. You're quite lucky no one else got that letter and that I burned it. Simpering foolish boy, how dare you sing his praises?"  
Mozart whimpered and fell backwards.  
As he did he was aware something fell out of his pocket. Something small and metal. Even in the dark he knew what it was.  
It was a ring Salieri had given him months ago after their first night together. He had sworn himself to Mozart the next day. Mozart had tucked the ring in his coat while they were out asking questions to avoid getting any in return. A rose gold and silver band of music notes. The first few of the requiem.  
The ring meant more to him than any possession he owned. He could see the look in Salieri's eyes as he had given it to him. If there was one thing Mozart was certain of it had been those forty-eight hours. If there was one expression he knew hid no lies it was that look.  
Anger started to replace his fear.  
"I thought you were dead... They told me you were dead... You lied, papa, just like you have about everything else!"  
He was fully expecting the slap he received.  
"How dare you! Look at yourself, Wolfgang, shivering constantly like a broken animal! And yet you stay with him!"  
Mozart was silent, tasting the blood on his lips. To him it tasted like defiance. For a moment even though he was chained he was starting to feel free, that was until Leopold Mozart's next words.  
"Do you love him?" Leopold asked, the revulsion clear in his voice.  
Mozart was still unable to lie to his father, but he knew if he replied he would instantly put Salieri and himself in danger. He remained quiet.  
"Do you love him!?" Leopold demanded in a near shout, grabbing Mozart's hair.  
Mozart flinched but looked at the outline of Leopold in the dark steadily.  
"Disgusting... Have you lain with him? Have you let that filthy creature taint you? Have you given that demon your soul?"  
He didn't reply, trying to keep his expression neutral. He could feel tears burning his eyes.  
"I will rid you of him, Wolfgang. I will kill him first, and then I will wipe every thought and memory of him from your mind."  
Mozart felt a wave of fear, his mouth drying out, his ears starting to ring. For as cold as he was he suddenly felt like his skin was on fire.

Salieri waited impatiently for the doors to open. He was standing outside of van Swieten's home while the others searched every suspicious lodge member they had found as well as the shop. He coughed into his hand before knocking on the door again.  
The second it was open he forced his way inside, ignoring the yelling of the doorman.  
"VAN SWIETEN!" Salieri thundered, his dry throat making his voice far more menacing, causing the startled servants to back up.  
Van Swieten burst out of a side door.  
"Maestro Salieri, what is the meaning of this? Dear God... What happened to you?"  
Salieri crossed the room fluidly, his motions giving no hint of his condition and he seized van Swieten by the throat. Joseph II's guards made no motion to stop him, instead they positioned themselves between Salieri and van Swieten's servants.  
"Where is he?" Salieri hissed.  
"Where is who?" Van Swieten wheezed.  
"MOZART YOU DAMN FOOL. Figlio di Troia!"  
"Did you lose him?"  
Salieri tightened his grip with a growl.  
"I better have not," He replied, pulling a knife from his coat, "Romperò il culo a qualcuno. We can do this two ways, van Swieten and two ways only! You can tell me what the hell is going on and where Mozart is or you can lose your tongue and you can show me! PICK."  
"Jesus..." One of the guards murmured.

"GIVE ME MY BROTHER OR YOUR LIFE!" Nannerl demanded, half pounding Walsegg's head into pavement. They had found him hiding in the shop moments ago and it had taken Nannerl two point five seconds to decide what to do with him. She had promptly thrown him out the door and started wailing on him with all the ferocity of a threatened lioness.  
"Tell us why you're doing this!" Constanze added.  
"Okay, okay, I'll talk, just stop!" Walsegg begged.  
"Well, that was too easy," said Nannerl, disappointed.  
"TALK!" Constanze ordered.

Mozart curled up on himself again, trying to keep warm. Leopold had left without saying more and now Mozart sat rocking and praying for Salieri to be safe. He felt around the ground and picked up the ring. He smiled sadly as the memories flickered through his mind.  
He remembered how he had panicked, thinking Salieri would not want him, that he was tainted. Earlier that day had had admitted to having been with a fair amount of others, Constanze had been accurate on that point. Instead of looking revolted, instead of regarding him with disdain however, Salieri had licked his lips and looked intrigued. It hadn't mattered to him, only where they were now. Later that night Mozart had confessed about Leopold, his real worry, and his reaction there had been one entirely unexpected. He recalled Salieri's own soft confessions as he kissed his scars. Salieri did not know when he started loving him, he didn't know when he decided he wanted him, only that at some point he had.  
He had realized it during Mozart's insults at Bonno's Salon. He admitted to Mozart and Mozart alone that his first impulse had been to get up from the chair and prove to Mozart just exactly how wrong he was. About Salieri. About Italian love. About everything. The realization had shook him to the core. And now, after all this time he had his chance.  
"Are you unafraid of Hell, Signore? Loving me?" Mozart had asked.  
Salieri had looked at him curiously for a moment, before he had smiled.  
"Wolfgang... If I am to be damned for eternity then let me be damned for love. Let me first know what it is to be loved by someone who wants me solely for me and me alone. Let me know the caress of a lover's touch, the taste of love's sweet lips on my own, and if I be cursed for it, well, then my God is hardly a loving God. But oh, Wolfgang... I begged for your life that night, offering my own in repentance, and not only did God spare your life, not only did He allow me to save you, to keep you here by my side. Oh no, that was not all, after that the greatest miracle of all took place... You loved me, and not just for my care, you _truly loved me,_ and if a love like this is wrong I have no desire to be right."  
The words had left Mozart speechless, as only Salieri seemed truly capable of doing. Salieri had treated him differently than the rest, with respect, with love, with a tenderness Mozart had never known before him. Almost with reverence. There was no pain in loving hm, no fear. He listened to Salieri's quiet declarations in Italian, of his promises for the future. For the first time since he could remember Mozart didn't just feel happy, or loved, he felt free and clean, and not just clean, but immaculate, as if his soul had been rinsed spotless. God had answered his own prayers, though he had been a little unconventional about it, and now Mozart trusted Salieri with everything from his life to his soul, and as he slipped the ring on one of his fingers he knew he had nothing to fear.__

__ Salieri took a vicious pleasure in kicking van Swieten forward. The guards didn't seem to mind. Van Swieten had stopped just briefly on the corner of Mozart's old street address and Salieri had a nasty feeling he knew exactly where Mozart was now.  
"In there," van Swieten confirmed, shaking, "That's where he said! The masked man! Now will you let me go?"  
"Not even in Hell, van Swieten. Not until he's safe."  
Salieri made it almost to the door when he heard a noise from further down the street. He caught a glimpse of a cloak and found himself running after it on instinct.  
"Stay with van Swieten!" He ordered over his shoulder.  
The guards knew better than to object.  
Salieri slid to a halt on the ice and looked around, listening intently. A man in the same cloak and mask jumped out of the shadows, hands outstretched, holding a knife in one.  
Salieri managed to duck just in time but he felt the blade bite into his upper arm. He snarled and shoved the man back by his face, taking his mask off in the process. He recognized the cloak figure as another lodge member.  
The lodge member cursed and charged forward again. Salieri slipped out of the way and watched him fall on the ice. He nearly reached for him until he saw the blood all over the ground. The man had fallen on his own knife.  
Perplexed Salieri stood there for a brief second, wondering not only what the odds were, but why on earth these things were happening. Van Swieten had been oblivious to all of the details beyond kidnapping Mozart. In his own words, he had not been trusted, having been close to Mozart before.  
He pried his gaze away and returned to the house. It stood looming over the street, pitch black and abandoned.  
"Anything?" One of the guards asked.  
Salieri shook his head.  
"Stay out here. I don't want us alerting anyone," Salieri replied.  
He opened the door cautiously, expecting it to be trapped. He was surprised when it was not.  
"Here I come, Wolfgang... You better be alive..."  
He entered the house and tried to remember where everything was as he stumbled around in the dark as silently as possible, feeling his way forward with his hands. He remembered the matches in his coat and struck one of them in annoyance. Spotting a candelabra sitting on a worn down table he lit it and made his way around the house. On the downstairs level the place was almost entirely empty aside from a few things that the Mozart's had left behind and some items Salieri didn't recognize. Idly he wondered who else was staying here as he grimly made his way upstairs, checking in every room he passed until he reached Mozart's old bedroom.  
He set his hand on the doorknob. The last time he had been here he had carried Mozart out of the house, weak and dying. He swallowed in fear, hoping tonight would not be the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figlio di Troia = Son of a b*/And stronger meanings.  
Romperò il culo a qualcuno = I will break someone's ass/kick somebody's ass


	6. Chapter 6

Salieri took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and pushed the door open with baited breath, raising the candles above his head. The room was empty except for Mozart sitting on the floor huddled in on himself and chained down. He let out a gasp on seeing Salieri and scrambled to his feet.  
"Antonio!"  
Salieri breathed in relief, Mozart seemed a little bruised and battered but no worse for wear.  
"Wolfgang!"  
He set the candles down and wrapped him tightly in his arms.  
"God, I was so worried... Mio caro lupo, Thank God... Grazie... Grazie..." He mumbled, kissing Mozart's head, face, lips... He frowned at the taste of blood. He tilted Mozart's head to better look at his split lip.  
Mozart let out a small gasp and Salieri drew back quickly, alarmed, but Mozart was looking at the blood all over his hand. Salieri's blood. He looked at Salieri in horror, his eyes falling on the cut in his arm.  
"It's nothing," Salieri assured him gently, "And if you don't mind..."  
He took off his coat and draped it over Mozart's shoulders.  
"Are you sure?"  
Salieri nodded and Mozart drew it closer around him.  
"Now then, let's get you out of here."  
"My father probably has the key."  
Salieri blinked in confusion.  
"Wolfgang, your father is dead."  
"That's what I thought too. I guess he was misdiagnosed."  
Salieri snorted in spite of himself.  
"That's a hell of a misdiagnosis."  
"Hmm, that's what I thought too."  
"Where is he now?"  
Mozart bit his lip.  
"I don't know, he left without telling me where he was going, but he's hellbent on killing you, I know that much. Antonio, you should go, it's not safe."  
"I'm not leaving you," Salieri said firmly, taking his hands, "Not then, not now, not ever. Do you understand me?"  
Mozart's face contorted with tears and Salieri kissed his forehead gently.  
"Just a moment..."  
Salieri went to the window and pushed it open, leaning out to look over the street. His jaw fell slightly in surprise and dismay as he saw the guards sprawled out unconscious, van Swieten long gone.  
"Damn it... Well, I guess we're waiting for your father."  
Mozart's eyes went wide.  
"Antonio, he'll kill you."  
Salieri laughed.  
"You underestimate me, Wolfgang. Be easy, mio amore."  
Mozart hugged him tightly. 

They passed some time in silence, watching the blackness of the the room shift to blue as dawn broke. Salieri was starting to realize just how awful he really felt, but his body remained tense, ready for a fight. He refused to rest until he knew Mozart was well and truly safe.  
A noise downstairs made them both look up. Salieri put his finger to his lips to hush him and then slipped out the door, sleek as a cat, and crept down the stairs. He caught sight of a shadow cast by the flicker of candlelight and he stopped just outside the door, looking at a cloaked figure standing at the table, his back turned.  
"I see the rumors of your death are slightly exaggerated, at least for the moment," Salieri said as smoothly as he could, his voice colder than the ice around them.  
The figure paused before turning, and although he had only met him a few times Salieri had no trouble identifying the eerie face of Leopold Mozart.  
"Ah, the Italian... I didn't expect you quite like this."  
"And what did you expect?"  
"I assumed you would still be out looking. I underestimated you. No matter, I would rather kill you myself."  
Salieri smiled.  
"You're welcome to try, Herr Mozart. I would however desire an explanation for all of this."  
Leopold laughed.  
"Why bother? You won't live to repeat any of it."  
"Satisfy my curiosity, Herr Mozart, I insist. Surely you must wish to tell someone of your genius, even if it is someone who can't _possibly_ comprehend it."__  
Salieri tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Leopold snorted.  
"It's true, I lived, and I grew anxious for my darling son. I heard he had taken a post under you and once I was well enough I set out for Vienna, intending to place him where he truly belonged. How could my boy be subject to such filth? I got help from the Masons, they're unhappy with you both, they wish my dear Wolfgang ill for his betrayal! Even dead! It was not hard to convince them of my plan. I would kill you, put Wolfgang in your place so long as he made certain promises, and destroy any and all traces of the _Magic Flute._ They told me of _Don Giovanni_ and of the figure Wolfgang claimed haunted him. We took turns keeping an eye out, I had to know more about you before I could act, the scheme had to go smoothly. but then I realized that you spent a terrifying amount of time with my son. The idea he could have the sticky hands of an Italian on him was too much for me. I resolved to remove him from the situation, knowing you would follow him and would fall straight into my grasp."____  
"Lovely. And here I am."  
"You have put me in the worst place a father could be," Leopold continued mournfully, "The only way to save my son from your taint, from your treachery, will be to give him back to God, but if it must be..."  
Salieri frowned.  
"You're going to kill him?"  
"I must. I have no choice. He has been with you. There is nothing else I could do that would cleanse him."  
"It's not like I have the plague," Salieri said acidly.  
"My son has been with an animal!"  
"Ah, yes... Do continue... I assume you mean yourself? Although, I would hardly call you an animal, that indicates you have some form of decency. A monster, a fiend, these are more fitting for the likes of you. I may be an animal, Caro Herr, but you sir are a demon."  
Leopold's face turned an ugly color.  
"Enough talking."  
"I agree. Give me the key."  
"Not on your life."  
"Over your dead body then? Don't mind if I do!"  
Leopold laughed again.  
"He would never forgive you. Wolfgang practically worships me, I made sure of that early on, you would lose him forever if you were to kill me."  
Salieri smiled, though he felt a wave of nausea and internal panic. His eyes burned at the thought.  
"If that is the price to pay for keeping him safe from you then so be it."  
Leopold's face darkened and with a cry he pulled a knife from his cloak and lunged forward. Salieri dodged and drew his own knife.  
"Are you not afraid of getting my _taint_ all over yourself?" Salieri jeered, "I'd hate for you to feel dirty _Signore!_"______  
"Insolent creature!"  
Salieri ducked, narrowly avoiding Leopold's blade.  
Grabbing his arm he pulled, sending them both to the floor, their knives flying from their hands. Impulsively Salieri bit Leopold's hand the second it was near his face, taking pleasure in Leopold's mixed cry of rage, pain, and disgust.  
"I guess it's suicide for you!" Salieri taunted, sticking his hands all over Leopold's face and making him cry out, "How else will you ever get the _stench_ off your skin?"__  
"Get your hands off of me!"  
"Make me you bitch!"  
"How dare you!?"  
"I? How dare _you,_ you bastard? Cazzo si! He was a _child_!" Salieri roared, "You want to talk about taint, pezzo di merda? Look in the mirror!"____  
They continued struggling on the floor, Salieri relieved when his hand managed to grasp his knife from where it had fallen under the table. He plunged the knife directly into Leopold's chest the second he felt a searing pain in his side.  
"Merda..." he mumbled, as he watched the life leave Leopold's eyes.  
Salieri looked down at his side, discovering Leopold's knife.  
"Manache... Wolfgang..."  
Hastily he dug through Leopold's coat pockets and found the key.  
"I'm coming, Wolfgang..."  
Salieri climbed to his feet and stumbled up the stairs, holding his side, feeling his shirt slowly soaking up his blood.  
"Lupo... Mio dolce lupo..."  
He pushed the door open and staggered forward, holding up the key with a tired and triumphant grin.  
"Hey..."  
He heard Wolfgang's scream and his cry of his name as he fell forward on his knees, dropping his head against the tiny blond's.  
"It's okay... You're safe now," He murmured, "You're safe..."  
"Antonio, oh God, no... NO! HELP!"  
Salieri was dimly aware of Mozart's embrace as his conscious slipped into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, there were a few places I tried using italics but they were not working correctly... More than likely I don't know what I'm doing. Like no matter what I do I can't seem to fix the title for Don Giovanni, where Salieri calls him"Signore," and the emphasis on "Child." Any ideas?
> 
> Cazzo si = F* you  
Pezzo di merda = piece of shit  
Merda = Shit  
Manache = Oh hell/damn (loosely translated)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, part six and seven are already planned. Well, technically five and six.
> 
> I would really like to thank Doc for all the help, proof reading, and insight! You're amazing!!

Mozart had zero time to think of what to do, no sooner had Salieri collapsed in his arms when the door opened and Nannerl and Constanze half stormed into the room, dragging Walsegg, a handful of guards, and a man Mozart recognized as Salieri's doctor in tow.  
"HELP HIM!" He half shouted.  
He sat in shock and terror as both the doctor and Nannerl came forward, laying Salieri out on the floor.  
"I'm going to need to help," The doctor said gravely.  
"What do you need?" Mozart demanded, trying to stay focused.

Notes.  
Too many notes.  
Far too many notes.  
More than he knew what to do with.  
They slipped through his mind, a flurry of emotion, fear, anguish, pain... He observed them curiously, wondering where in the darkness they were coming from. They were beautiful, it was true, but they made his heart ache for whoever was playing them. Who were they for?  
Salieri realized abruptly that the notes were not a figment of his imagination or a dream as he became aware of a dull throb in his side and arm. The notes, he realized, were coming from a clavichord on the other side of the room.  
He opened his eyes weakly, they felt like they weighed a ton to him. He turned his head and discovered Mozart to be the source of the music. He smiled. Of course. Who else would use that many notes?  
He listened for awhile, unable to see Mozart's face from this angle, but content with watching the flurry of hand movements, the bouncing of his hair. He frowned, the longer Mozart played the darker the music became until his hands slipped from the keyboard and he dropped his head into them, tremors wracking his small body.  
"Wolfgang..." Salieri rasped, wincing at the sound of his own voice. His throat was horribly dry.  
Mozart visibly froze aside from the shakes and he looked around, wide eyed, his pale face stained with tears.  
"Antonio..." He gasped.  
Salieri offered him a rueful smile and Mozart practically flew across the room, taking his face and kissing him.  
"Oh my God... Don't you EVER do that to me again..." He breathed.  
"I'll try my best," Salieri coughed.  
Mozart stroked his cheek and Salieri's eyes widened, realizing how scruffy he was.  
"How long...?"  
"Three days. I thought you were going to die... I honest to God thought I was going to lose you..."  
Salieri tried to look offended.  
"You're not getting rid of me that easily."  
Mozart smiled but the expression looked uncomfortable, as though his face had forgotten how. Salieri wondered grimly if it was the first time he had tried since he was rescued.  
"I'm going to get you some water," Mozart decided, kissing the top of his head, "Just relax. You're in good hands."  
Salieri made a face.  
"If I have to eat your cooking then I'm still a dead man."  
Mozart starred at him.  
"I'm joking..."  
"Antonio, you should have seen yourself... You should have seen the Emperor..."  
Salieri started.  
"The Emperor?"  
"He's worried sick. I'll let the guards know you're awake."  
Salieri blinked as Mozart started to head for the door.  
"Wolfgang, wait..." He sighed, "About your father-"  
"I'd rather talk about that later."  
He nodded, "As you wish."

Mozart returned a few minutes later carrying a tray of soup and water which he sat down infront of Salieri.  
"Grazie, lupo..."   
"Of course... Take it easy, okay?" He added, helping Salieri by propping up the pillows behind him, "Eat slow."  
"And what about you, lupo? You look like a disaster," Salieri said in concern, now able to see the dark circles around Mozart's wide eyes and the unhealthy tint to his complexion. There were still bruises on his face and his lip was still healing.  
"I'm fine knowing you're okay," Mozart said quietly.  
"Wolfgang, please, you need rest and food. Have you slept at all since we rescued you?"  
Mozart flinched.  
"They tried to make me. I slept for a few hours. Stanze and Nannerl went and got your doctor on the way... I thank God they did... He's been here since. The poor devil has been trying to look after everyone."  
"Lupo..."  
"I didn't want to leave your side."  
Salieri starred at him and he set his spoon down carefully. Slowly he reached out and took Mozart by the face.  
"Listen to me. You have nothing to worry about now, I'm going to be fine and no one even remotely in their right mind will come after you. You can eat, you can rest, everything is going to be okay, I promise."  
"Do you know how many times I had to wash my hands to get all of your blood off?" Mozart whispered, "I don't even know..."  
"All that is over now. Though tell me lupo, did that bastard hurt you?"  
Mozart shook his head.  
Salieri nodded.  
"The blood I found on the sidewalk?"  
Mozart grinned.  
"Not mine."  
Salieri smiled.

"What the hell is wrong with my court musicians!?" Joseph II cried in dismay a few hours later.  
Salieri was too stunned at having the Emperor in his bedroom to reply.  
"First Mozart goes and gets himself poisoned and almost dies and now my court composer is lying in bed with a knife wound! You're supposed to play music not screw around in espionage! if you want to do this kind of shit I will reassign you both as palace guards! This is absurd!"  
Salieri sat there speechless, and so, to his surprise, did Mozart.  
Joseph II sighed, rubbing his brows as though dealing with trying children.  
"For God's sake... Listen, Antonio, I am more than thrilled to have you home safe and awake and on the path to recovery, just... The two of you, stop sticking your noses into trouble, understand? I don't want to wake up one morning to a guard telling me one of you got shot and killed while breaking and entering!"  
With that Joseph II left like an indignant parent and Salieri and Mozart looked at each other.  
"'Espionage?'" Salieri repeated.  
Mozart held out his hands helplessly, just as confused.  
"What the hell is he talking about?" Salieri mused, "I suppose we'll find out sooner or later..."  
Mozart nodded and sat down beside Salieri, who took his hand and kissed it.  
"What were you playing when I woke up?"  
He shrugged.  
"Nothing, I was just playing. I had to let it out somewhere."  
Salieri nodded, troubled.  
"I'm sorry I worried you... And for everything you've been through... Would you like to talk?"  
Mozart sighed, before lying down and draping an arm carefully over Salieri.  
"I'd actually like to sleep."  
Salieri smiled and kissed the top of his head.  
"Then sleep, lupo, we'll talk later."  
He watched Mozart for awhile, running his fingers idly through the tangled blond hair and smiling sadly.

Salieri winced, even from his angle, which didn't exactly give him a good view, the knife wound looked unpleasant.  
"It will definitely scar," The doctor mused, "Though it looks as though you are hardly a stranger to such."  
He nodded, his mind elsewhere.  
"Stefan... Did you examine Wolfgang? Did he let you?"  
"His wife and sister would have it no other way, though the young Herr Mozart was hardly accepting."  
Salieri's breath hitched.  
"How was he? Was he alright?" He asked quickly, fear making him ignore the pain of Stefan prodding at his wound.  
"Calm yourself, Signore... You are in no condition for that... Aside from some bruises and scuffs he was perfectly fine. A little cold, though miraculously he doesn't seem to have caught anything major, unlike you."  
Salieri relaxed with a sigh, closing his eyes.  
"Thank God..."

"Wolfgang..."  
Salieri watched Mozart rock as he sat at the clavichord, his hands on the keys but never playing anything.  
"Antonio?"  
"Come here, come sit with me, talk to me..."  
Mozart stopped but didn't move.  
"I don't want to talk about it."  
Salieri sighed.  
"Mio caro lupo... I understand, truly, but you cannot continue as you are..."  
Mozart remained silent, his hands now in his lap.  
"Oh, Wolfgang..."  
"I'm fine," Mozart said firmly.  
"You're a terrible liar, lupo... You should know better, but I will respect you, though I ask that you do not allow it to eat you alive."  
Mozart nodded.

"I've finished it," Mozart said abruptly.  
Salieri glanced at him, confused. Mozart was curled up beside him again. To Salieri's annoyance he was still confined to bed, mostly out of Mozart's worry. The knife wound had bled considerably but had missed any of his internal organs, yet Salieri's body was worn down, he had fallen sick and dehydrated and Mozart was not budging on letting him up for any length of time.  
_"The Raven and the Dove,"_ Mozart replied, "I changed the piece."  
_"'The Raven and the Dove,'?"_ Salieri repeated, "What made you do that?"  
"You. It starts out the same, telling the story of a dove, mostly in the woodwinds and brass until it meets a raven, portrayed by the strings. They fight at first, the piece is reconciled in the basses and low notes before in comes a falcon. The falcon attacks the dove but the raven returns to save it. They get into a horrendous fight, the strings battling against each other with the thunder of the percussion. Underneath are the cries of the woodwinds. They both fall, there is silence, and then... The strings return and the dove flies free. I'm keeping your additions here, that you added before, at the end."  
Salieri was momentarily speechless.  
"I would love to hear it... Or even simply read it."  
Mozart beamed at him.  
"I'll finish writing it out!"  
He faltered.  
"Antonio... I don't blame you, I want you to know..."  
"Lupo..."  
"You were just trying to protect me... I know that... Losing him again... Nearly losing you... I don't think I can do this anymore... Write for others... For the public I mean... Da Ponte dropped off the libretto while you were out, I've barely looked at it... I don't even know what it's about... I can't-"  
Salieri scrambled upright, hissing in pain as he did so and causing Mozart to move forward, going pale.  
"I'm alright... Wolfgang, you listen to me and you listen closely... Come here..."  
Mozart moved closer and Salieri pulled him into a hug, petting his hair.  
"My dearest lupo... You can't possibly tell me you're quitting."  
"The music is still in my head, but, I'm afraid of letting it out anywhere but here, at home..." Mozart admitted, "I've caused so much damage, I don't want-"  
"Wolfgang, no. God, no... You cannot keep these gifts silent. If you are afraid of backlash please feel free to talk to me, always, no matter what, if you trust my judgement. But please, Wolfgang, for the love of God, you mustn't..."  
"Antonio?" Mozart asked curiously, brushing tears Salieri didn't even realize he was shedding from his face.  
"I will do anything to make you more comfortable, Wolfgang. If you want me to sing for you, dance for you, conduct for you, I don't give a damn, I will do it, just please, please don't stop. I know you're scared, I know you're hurt, and I know you're afraid of putting something else in an opera to cause trouble... But I won't let anything touch you. I promise you."  
Mozart starred at him.  
"But what about you?"  
Salieri tried to smile.  
"I'm still alive, am I not? Everything will be fine, Wolfgang, you'll see."  
"I thought you refused to dance on stage..."  
"I will burn my memories to the ground if it keeps your fire lit, just as I know you would for me."  
Mozart's jaw fell open.  
"Adone... I will keep going, but I will not ask you to tear such things open."  
Salieri smiled weakly.  
"You can't tear open what never closed."  
Mozart sat up and wrapped his arms tightly around him.  
"I'm so sorry... But you're right... I'll be strong like you, for you. I love you."  
"Ti amo, dolce lupo."  
"Should I read Da Ponte's libretto to you?" Mozart offered.  
"I'd like that."____

_ _ _ _Mozart sat in one of the chairs by the fire in Salieri's room, subconsciously biting his hand as his mind ran through the scenario yet again. He didn't know how many times he had witnessed it now, only that he couldn't stop. He pressed his hands against his eyes, hoping the darkness would blot the memories out, but instead they grew more vivid, tearing through his mind viciously. He didn't even notice the soft footsteps in the room.  
"Lupo?" came the soft, concerned voice, the lilting accent dancing around his ears, "Hey... It's okay..."  
He felt Salieri's hand on his shoulder, the long fingers giving it a gentle squeeze. Mozart hugged him tightly, trying to bury himself in Salieri's embrace, in his scent, the sound of his lungs and heartbeat.  
"You shouldn't be up..."  
"Innamorato... Luce dei Miei Occhi... Let me help you, please... Let me in... It's okay, I promise. It's safe."  
Salieri kissed the top of his head and stood there patiently, toying with the edges of Mozart's hair and rubbing his shoulders.  
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be doing this, this isn't strong-"  
"Anzi! Lupo, this is strength..."  
"When I saw his face I wasn't relieved, I wasn't happy, God, I was terrified... What kind of son reacts like that?"  
Salieri winced.  
"What kind of father treats his son so poorly?" Salieri returned.  
"I feared the worst... He threatened me, Antonio, he told me he would kill you and then come back for me. That he would rid me of you. He told me he would wipe every memory of you from my mind. His exact words... I took that to mean..."  
Salieri tightened his grip, feeling a wave of nausea and anger.  
"God, Antonio... It hurts... What he did, and then, I know I was never good enough for him, he credited himself with my success. Called me a fraud. And yet I still care, I still want him to tell me that I made him proud... But he's dead for good, and that never would have happened, and he never would have accepted how I love you, and I remember being so afraid but wanting his approval so badly, I still want..." Mozart choked, everything had come out in a torrent and he found himself unable to continue, trying not to sob.  
Salieri took his face, starring at him with a look Mozart had not see before, a mixture of sadness, pain, recognition, and an understanding that sent a chill through him.  
"Wolfgang... That bastard deserves nothing from you. I understand very well how much you want him to be proud of you, but men like this have pride only for themselves. You are no more a fraud than I am. We have both fought to get to where we are today. You may not have his approval, you may not have his pride, but you certainly have mine. I cannot fix this for you, no matter how badly I want to, and God knows, I would love to more than anything, but I am here for you, Wolfgang, I do love you, and you can talk to me always. You can lean on me."  
Mozart swallowed hard.  
"You wanted Gassmann's approval, didn't you?"  
Salieri smiled bitterly.  
"More than my life," He said softly, "But I never got it. At least, not genuinely. Sometimes Lupo the ones we love don't love us back..." He paused and kissed the top of Mozart's head, "But sometimes they do. I have often wondered why God gave you to me, I have yet to find the answer, but every day I thank Him."  
Mozart wiped his eyes and tried to smile.  
"I ask myself the same question. Well, with you, I mean. When I was in that room, before Papa came in I started thinking of everything, before the night with the requiem... I know I apologized before, I knew I had done it, but as I thought back I realized how often I hurt you..."  
Salieri sighed.  
"I hurt you far worse, Wolfgang."  
"I don't think so..."  
"Love is fickle. It's over, lupo, I forgive you, and I love you."  
"I forgive and love you too.... Antonio?"  
"Hmm?"  
Mozart buried his face in his shirt with a muffled, "Thank you for saving me."_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Salieri frowned as something brushed his face. Once. Twice... It felt strange, like someone dragging hair against his skin.  
He opened his eyes and discovered a mass of tinsel above his head.  
"Che diavolo...?"  
He grabbed at the tinsel and nearly pulled it down ontop of him.  
"Lupo..." He muttered.  
He sat up slowly and then stood, look around at the tinsel and garland hanging around his room.  
"Madonna santa! What is all this?"  
Salieri cautiously took a few steps, testing his body's response and finding himself stiff and sore, but functional.  
There was a knock on the door and Mozart entered, took one look at Salieri and went dead white.  
"You shouldn't be up!"  
There it was again. Salieri had been up a few times and the response was always the same.  
"What have you done to my house?" Salieri countered.  
"It's Christmas in a few days," Mozart said defensively, taking his arm, "We were not going to let you miss it."  
Salieri tilted his head in confusion.  
"'Miss it?'" He repeated, frowning, "Dare I ask what you've done to the rest of the place?"  
"It's a surprise, look, you really shouldn't be up."  
"I'll be fine, Lupo. Show me."  
"Stubborn bastard... Fine," Mozart sighed, kissing his cheek before slipping an arm around him, "At least walk with me, that way if you do start to fall or something there's less risk."  
Salieri dully consented and let Mozart lead him out of his room.   
He stopped in shock.  
His apartments were decorated tastefully in garland, tinsel, festive looking candles, small bells, even a Christmas tree stood tall and glittering in the corner, ornaments hanging off its branches.  
"Are you alright?" Mozart asked gently, looking closely at his face.  
Tears burned the corners of Salieri's eyes and to Mozart's dismay he shook his head. Mozart tightened his grip slightly.  
"Take it easy..." He soothed, "I didn't mean to upset-"  
"Lupo you idiot... Grazie..."  
Salieri pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head. Mozart grinned.  
"I take it you're not angry with me..."  
"Angry with you? Mio caro lupo, I don't think you understand... Ti amo... I have not had anything like this in a long time..."  
"This isn't the half of it, wait until you see what's on the menu, but really, you should at least sit down."_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Salieri awoke Christmas morning to find his bed devoid of blonds with a slight disappointment and a touch of anxiety. He was not sure how to take the day and he prepared for it slowly, wishing he could avoid such awkwardness. On one hand, he loved the holiday itself, not only was he deeply religious, all fights with God aside, but he was also a giving sort. He just wasn't sure he could handle Mozart's bombastic nature. Salieri was unused to everything, sure Joseph II and some of his students presented him with the occassional presents or specialty dish, but this was an entirely different level. There was also the fact he had been unable to leave and secure anything to present anyone with as a gift.   
His spirits gloomy he sat back down on the bed, wondering if he could feign a relapse in sickness.  
A knock on the door told him no.  
Mozart entered quietly, stopping to examine his charge.  
"Antonio, what's wrong?"  
Salieri held out his hands helplessly.  
"I'm sorry, this is all too much, lupo... I'll make it up to you, I swear it, but-"  
Mozart smiled and crossed the room to kneel infront of him, taking his hands.  
"Hey, look at me... You don't have to worry, it's going to be quiet downstairs, I just want you to enjoy yourself and live a little. If it makes you too uneasy you can come back up here. Nobody expects anything of you, frankly the best present I could have asked for is already sitting right infront of me. You're alive, your health will at least be intact, that's all that matters."  
Salieri sat there in shock, starring down at the grinning white face.  
"What do you say? I think you'll be impressed with the food at least."  
He nodded dumbly and let Mozart guide him out of his room. He found Nannerl and Constanze sitting side by side, Stanze holding the baby Franz. Karl sat on the floor playing with a small toy and humming a Christmas carol.   
The smell of food assaulted his senses and his stomach growled, making him realize he had not eaten much beyond soup since he had been stabbed.  
"I..."  
"Antonio, please, sit," Stanze said warmly.  
He sat down nervously, still uncertain as to what to expect. Mozart brushed his hair back before pouring him a glass of something he didn't recognize.  
"That's not alcohol, is it?" Salieri asked.  
Mozart shook his head.  
"We left that out. Eggflip without the alcohol."  
Curiously Salieri tested the drink and was quite happy to find it hot, warming his insides and letting him start to relax._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _The day passed in an entirely unexpected manner, it was quiet, as Mozart promised, but full of things Salieri had thought long lost to him. It was cozy, loving, filled with light talk and laughter and something that left his eyes wet, family. Here he was, happy and loved.  
The food gave him a pause when the time came, the table was filled with a mixture of both Austrian and Italian dishes, real food and sweets both. He found himself wiping his eyes, some of the dishes on the table he had not touched in decades. Again he realized uncomfortably how little he had been eating. He caught Mozart watching him carefully, but with a soft smile.  
The day passed into night and Salieri lounged on the couch with his head in Mozart's lap, more eggflip in his hands, gazing up at his ceiling. When was the last time he felt like this? He wasn't sure.  
"I really don't know what to say... Thank you, all of you," He said for perhaps the hundredth time.  
Mozart chuckled, running his fingers through Salieri's hair.  
"It really is just fine, Adone."  
He closed his eyes and stayed there for awhile, listening to the quiet chatter of the rest of the Mozart family. His family, he realized in quiet astonishment, wondering how it had come to this.  
Eventually both Constanze and Nannerl retired, leaving the two of them alone on the couch.  
"Hey, let me up for a minute," Mozart said.  
Salieri sat up reluctantly.  
"I'll be right back."  
He shrugged and leaned back on the couch, wondering if Mozart would let him just sleep here. Mozart returned minutes later carrying a small box wrapped in festive paper.  
"I got you something."  
Salieri starred at him, feeling a flood of emotions at once.  
"You really..."  
"I wanted to," Mozart said warmly, sitting down on the edge of the couch and offering him the box, "You mean so much to me, you've given me so much, more than I could ever hope to ask for."  
"Wolfgang, it's more than mutual, you didn't have to do this..."  
"I've distressed you... I'm sorry, I just-"  
Salieri held up a hand and shook his head.  
"I appreciate it, I just wish I had something for you in return."  
Mozart grinned.  
"Didn't I tell you that you were my Christmas present?"  
"That's a terrible Christmas present, Wolfgang."  
"Not to me it isn't."  
Salieri smiled and carefully began to unwrap the box.  
"What are you saving the paper for?"  
"It means something to me."  
"You're silly."  
"Maybe so..."  
He opened the box and pulled out a gothic looking cross hanging from a simple chain. Salieri's heart nearly quit beating as he gawked at the piece, wondering how on earth Mozart could have afforded such a thing. At the same time he felt his eyes burn yet again. He had warred with his faith for years now, though his belief itself remained strong. Mozart had not only given him an aesthetic gift, but a reminder of all he had been blessed with.  
Wordlessly he pulled Mozart into a hug, crying.  
"Hey, take it easy..."  
"How did you do this?" He whispered.  
Mozart shrugged.  
"I've had some saved for such a thing, from doing lessons and arrangements. I've been responsible, I promise. Here.."  
He took the cross from Salieri's hands and hung it around his neck.  
"There we go... Though I would suggest you keep it tucked behind your collar in public."  
Salieri could only kiss him, speechless._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _To Salieri's delight the decorations remained around his home until New Years, which the family celebrated peacefully as well. He was not surprised to find a plethora of resolutions dancing around his mind as sat in much of the same position as he had on Christmas, his head resting on Mozart's knees comfortably. He listened to the others present their different goals fondly, everything from Constanze's desire to start publishing more of Mozart's work and to get something done around the house to Nannerl's goals of publishing some of her own, which Salieri offered to assist with. Mozart was strangely quiet aside from the offhand comment, content to play with Salieri's hair. The siblings were strikingly alike Salieri noted again, watching Nannerl play with Constanze's.  
"What about you two?" Nannerl asked.  
"You know me, if I tell you I won't get anything done," Mozart replied.  
"More like you can't think of any."  
"Hey now, I didn't say that."  
"You're hopeless. Antonio, what about you?"  
Salieri didn't respond right away, weighing his responses.  
"Well, I've put never getting stabbed again on my list of things to do."  
Mozart paled and both Constanze and Nannerl laughed.  
"Not funny," Mozart muttered.  
"They beg to differ," Salieri replied, "But my apologies. Also, Da Ponte's latest. That's not happening. I've resolved to put my foot down with him."  
"Why is that?" Nannerl asked.  
Salieri and Mozart exchanged glances._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Salieri growled a few weeks later.  
"What do you mean? Is that the blood loss still talking?" Da Ponte asked, "This is the greatest libretto ever written!"  
"Modesty isn't your strong suit," Mozart observed.  
The three of them sat in Salieri's study going over Da Ponte's libretto.  
"You're a fine one to talk," Da Ponte replied.  
"Lorenzo, the last time anyone wrote anything with an active flute part people died," Mozart said emphatically.  
"I'm not sure that's what makes it so awful," Salieri muttered, "Dueling flutes sounds like a terrible American comedic act. How did you even manage to write a libretto out of that concept?"  
"Did either of you even read the whole thing?"  
"Sadly, yes," Mozart said, "Twice."  
"Well then you'll know exactly how!"  
"Da Ponte, you have given us many great librettos to write for," Salieri said sincerely, "Many of them I cherish very closely to my heart, which, as you open your mouth, to avoid your smart ass remark, is yes, still beating and functioning just fine, grazie. I will gladly look at any other librettos you have but one you decidedly wrote while entirely, ah... Assist me, Wolfgang, will you?"  
"Shit-faced?" Mozart offered.  
"Yes, shit-faced, is not one of which I wish to perform for you."  
Da Ponte rolled his eyes before looking at the work in his hands.  
"I suppose it could do with some adjustments..."  
"That's the spirit. Come back when you've made them," Salieri encouraged.  
Da Ponte nodded and stood.  
"Well then, gentlemen, I must take my leave. I have other engagements I must attend to, good day."  
"Sulking and chasing women, most likely," Mozart said as soon as Da Ponte was out the door, "Antonio, you're too nice."  
"I do my best... Tell me, Wolfgang, what would you say to a performance of _The Raven and the Dove?"____ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _Salieri paced the floor, wondering what Joseph II could possibly want. A courier had dropped by earlier that morning with a summons, requesting his presence, along with Mozart's, later that evening.  
"Calm down, he probably just wants to make sure you're doing alright," said Mozart, "Which, you really should stop walking around like that."  
"Are you certain?" Salieri asked with some anxiety, "It seems unlike the Emperor to not say what for or to give any prior comment."  
"I'm sure. Seriously, sit down, you're making me anxious."  
Salieri sat but passed the rest of the day in a quiet, fretful mood. When evening came the two of them set off for the palace, Mozart relaxed, watching out the carriage while Salieri sat nearly gnawing on his hands.  
"I give up," Mozart said finally, glancing at him, "You're a wreck. You may be _my wreck,_ but you're a wreck. Please just breathe."  
Salieri half ignored him as the carriage pulled to a halt and they were let out and guided inside. He squared his shoulders, putting on the same mask he had worn for years. It didn't prepare him for the full reception room the guards opened to them.  
They stopped infront of Joseph II, who rose to greet them in a bizarrely casual way, taking Salieri's hands warmly in his own with a smile.  
"My dear Court Composer... I confess I don't know where to begin."  
Salieri's mind ran in a thousand directions at once with uncertainty, everything from serious possibilities to a dull thought of how this seemed like a marriage proposal.  
"You and Herr Mozart have saved my life, and for that I am uncertain as to how to repay you, but I would like to start by knighting you, sir."  
Salieri blinked, stunned, wondering if this was a fevered dream and he was sadly back at home battling some heinous infection.  
"Your majesty?"  
"Ah, I see. While you were rooting out young Mozart's whereabouts you gave our dear Lodge such a fright that both Walsegg and van Swieten admitted to a plot against the very crown of Austria, one that involved my eventual demise."  
Salieri nodded once, trying to process this. Joseph II patted his hand.  
"My dear friend, you caused quite a ruckus."___ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "Knight. A knight. I was knighted," Salieri said faintly.  
Mozart, having been a chevalier for most of his life smiled and led him through the doors of his apartments.  
"Doing okay with that, Sir Salieri?  
Salieri sat down heavily in a chair.  
"Frankly? I'm not certain..."  
"Of all the ways to get knighted," Mozart chuckled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Mozart bit his thumb in worry, his mind grazing over the images of Salieri's bloodied frame in his arms as he stood backstage. Salieri had been released from Stefan's care for the most part. He knew he didn't have anything to worry about with this, he had been pronounced healthy enough to perform, providing he did not lift anything extraneous for awhile. Every respectable lodge member was terrified out of their wits when it came to him now, meaning Mozart was safe and sound. Walsegg and Van Swieten had been forced to answer to Emperor Joseph II. Mozart should have had nothing to fear, but here he was.  
He looked at the scores in his hands. He should be excited. Salieri had pounced on the score and insisted on taking first chair violin the moment he had finished reading it. He had grabbed his violin before Mozart could object or fuss over his health and had begun playing. The sounds had been pure Heaven, but underneath the bliss Mozart's anxiety ate at him as he watched Salieri's every move, looking for a hint of strain or pain.  
He knew he couldn't do that tonight. Tonight he had to focus. Salieri would be fine.  
Mozart squared his shoulders and walked out. The thunderous applause that greeted him made him momentarily forget everything, lost in the rush. A true smile crossed his face as he introduced his piece, careful in his choice of wording. He then introduced his lead players, starting with the Court Composer himself.  
The piece itself was exactly as Mozart had described, beginning with the dove in the woodwinds, echoing subtly some of Mozart's previous works. The dove was light, carefree, a little haughty, and then came the strings of the raven, at first curious, traces of Salieri's work laced through the measures. The dove's response took on a taunting tone and the raven's snapped back dangerously. The two fought through a call and response until the raven took flight. The falcon loomed in the distance, creeping into the woodwinds eerily, chilling the timbre of the piece, turning it dark like ink bleeding through paper. The falcon attacked, the shrill cry of the dove, the alarm of the raven. The raven returned to defend the dove, fighting with the falcon. The string sections warred with each other, leaving the cries of the woodwinds just audible as the percussion added dramatic and sudden crashes through the piece. The music tumbled, unwraveling, and everything went silent for a moment. And then, a single player, Salieri himself, revived the music, a thin sound at first, distant, pianissimo, and then crescendoing, bringing with it the full force of the rest of the strings. The woodwinds returned triumphantly, taking over and swelling into a grand ending before fluttering off into stillness.  
Mozart held the moment just a fraction of a second longer than normal, and nearly fell off the podium as the audience burst into another standing ovation.  
He nearly bounced on his heels with pride, spinning around to gesture at Salieri, who rose from his chair fluidly, bowing. The cacophony increased and Mozart grinned. How could he have thought of leaving this?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _The second he was alone with Salieri he threw his arms around him with unreserved joy.  
"Did you see their faces?"  
"Of course, lupo."  
"Dear God, you were brilliant!" Mozart breathed, "Everything was executed to absolute perfection! How are you feeling?"  
Salieri tilted his head, studying Mozart for a moment.  
"Adone?"  
Salieri kissed him suddenly and Mozart stumbled, almost falling backwards, suspecting neither the action itself nor its intensity.  
"Wow..." Mozart breathed, once he let go, "This has to be one of the best nights of my life."  
"Oh, not yet it isn't..."  
Mozart turned pink.  
"You've convinced me to continue writing for good. How could I pass up the performance? How could I let go of these moments backstage?"  
"Glad to hear it," Salieri purred in his ear._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Innamorato = As a noun, basically "sweetheart"  
Luce dei Miei Occhi = Light of my eyes  
Anzi = Rather/on the contrary  
Che diavolo = What the hell?  
Madonna santa = Blessed virgin/mother of Christ/mother of God/Good God/literally "Saint Madonna"


End file.
